Of Teddy Bears and Kingdoms
by Kanosui
Summary: What if the abuse Harry suffered at the hands of his family gives him the strength to survive torture by Death Eaters? And, what will Voldie do once he realizes that you can't break what is already broken? HPDM WARNING: Child Abuse, Rape, and Torture
1. The Lost Teddy Bear

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.

_Something I'm not supposed to talk about,_

_The way you violated me,_

_Something that I could've lived without,_

_The way you put your hands all over me,_

_I wonder do you lie awake and think at night?_

_How you tore my innocence in two,_

_I wonder do you cry yourself to sleep at night?_

'_Cause I can tell you it's what you made me do._

_- Seventh Day Slumber "Innocence"_

**Harry's POV**

Pain-- such a strange word.

It is nothing more than a small, four letter word like they, or if you wish to get colorful than damn or shit. But, it isn't as shallow as those words; it has meaning. Meaning that encompasses a world of possibility--even if it's not the nicest of possibilities. Pain does not discriminate or play favorites, but instead bestows its curse upon all of its subjects equally. The loss of a teddy bear will make a little girl cry just as hard as a King when faced with the loss of his Kingdom. It is all the same to pain.

I chuckled at my own wayward thoughts, wondering what the fuck is wrong with me. Who in their right mind would spend time thinking about a four letter word? Although, I didn't have anything better to do with my time.

Once again my eyes grazed across my thigh, noting the dieing trail of red. I needed more. I wasn't ready to remember… or forget. Slowly, so as to relish in the moment, I glide the small razor across my skin, disturbing a collage of angry stripes. My mind becomes entranced with the small river rising from my skin. I loved this feeling, for me this is utopia. Sighing, I lean back against my bed as I allow the pain to steal my mind, emotions, thoughts… and me. This was utopia…

Pain was utopia… I can feel myself slipping now, the pain taking over my senses.

In the back of my mind I registered a noise. Was that a car? My mind starts to wake slowly, grasping for reality.

There, another sound. A door slamming. SHIT! Uncle Vernon was home.

My mind races as I scrambled to hide the evidence of what I'd been doing. Quickly, I shoved the razor under my bed followed by the bloody shirt that had been catching my life force.

Heavy foot steps could be heard rising up the stairs, accompanied by grumbling. My hand grazes across my thigh to stop the blood flow and create a glamour which would hide the scares that made my thigh look like raw meat.

The foot steps grow closer and I am able to make out their irregular beats. He was drunk. My mind scrambles to think of anything else that needed to be done. The blood! I reach under the bed to pull out the bloody shirt and speedily clean any mess that landed on the floor.

I can hear his heavy breathing as he approaches my door. Finally, I shove the shirt back under the bed and jump for my pants so as to throw them on myself. Hopefully, out of sight and out of mind would save me from his attentions. My door opens as I stand up, quickly zipping my zipper. I hear his deranged mumblings and feel my dread of what was to come.

"Ya' been a bad boy. Bad boy. Bad boys always getin' punished. I was always gitin' punished. No parent likes punishin' their kid, but it gatta be done for ya' own good…" His mumbling continues as he grabs me by the arm and pulls me to him. I was nose to nose with him now—drowning in his foul, drunken odor. He breaths deep, all the while lowering his head to my cheek, neck, collarbone… he continues downward until his path is brought to an abrupt halt by the collar of my shirt. Releasing an animalistic grunt of displeasure, he tares the shirt from my body, leaving me in need of yet another shirt.

Seeming pleased with his actions, he puffs up and sneers in my face. I am careful not to let any emotions out, even as my heart fails to numb itself. Pushing me to the bed, he then sets to the task of removing my pants. I flinch at this, failing to hide my fear.

He growls and bares his teeth at me. "I'm doin' this for ya' own good! Now don't ya' go flinchin' away from me!" With this he back hands me and leaves my mind reeling to pull its senses back together.

Then I feel it. Something snaps inside of me, and I feel, with no small amount of relief, a numb impassiveness overtaking my heart and mind. My body becomes limp. I am nothing more than a puppet now—a sex toy for Uncle Vernon's pleasure.

His hands begin to ravage my body, and yet, I feel nothing. His mouth joins in now, tracing from my neck to my limp cock—I feel nothing. When reaching my length, he takes it into his mouth and begins to suck—I feel nothing. His annoyance grows as he realizes that his attention goes unnoticed. He lashes out at me, breaking a rib—I feel nothing.

He returns to his prior engagements, but this time chooses to be pleased instead of pleasing. He instructs me to disrobe him—I feel nothing. He wants to feel me lavish his body with attention—I feel nothing. He instructs me to use my mouth—I feel nothing. His hand pushes me lower as he shoves his length into my face—I feel nothing. I open my mouth and take him into me—I feel nothing. A new texture enters my mouth as his body shivers and he cries out—I choke.

He is angry again, how dare I not meet his standards. He flips me over roughly and begins to mutilate my back—I feel nothing. His cock begins to perk up as he butchers my body—I feel nothing. The beating continues as his claws are added into the mix—I feel nothing. His cock grows harder—I feel nothing. He takes me hard and fast—I feel nothing. Blood pours out from between my legs and joins the awaiting red ocean—I feel nothing. My body screams in protest as he rips open my insides—I feel nothing. His assault becomes more desperate as he comes closer to completion—I feel nothing. He comes again, mixing his semen with my blood—I feel nothing. He pulls out, his apatite met for the night—I feel nothing. He slowly dresses himself—I feel nothing. He exits, leaving my maimed body in agony—I feel nothing.

I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel nothing—I feel…

A single tear roles down my cheek—I feel shame.

In a world of pain I am nothing more than a little girl who has lost her teddy bear.


	2. Ruby Red Eyes

"_Look down and see the beggars at your feet._

_Look down and show some mercy if you can._

_Look down and see the sweepings on the street._

_Look down, Look down, Upon your fellow man._

_These are my people. Here's my patch._

_Not much to look at, nothing posh,_

_Nothing that you'd call up to scratch._

_This is my school, my high society_

_Here in the slums of Saint Michele_

_We live on crumbs of humble piety_

_Tough on the teeth, but what the hell!_

_Think you're poor? Think you're free?_

_Follow me! Follow me!_

_Look down and show some mercy if you can,_

_Look down, Look down, Upon your fellow man."_

_- Les Miserables "Look Down"_

**Harry's POV**

Many love the first rays of light that glimmer through the curtains in the early morning. They say it warms them and provides a feeling of belonging, but for me it illuminates dangerously pale skin tainted by bruises and emerald eyes dulled to an ugly mud. I hate the morning. I'm just so tired.

I can hear my Aunt's shrill voice as she argues with one of her fellow housewives on the phone and I know that soon she will begrudgingly allow me to leave my room so as to complete today's list of chores. How I was going to scrub the floors without reopening my wounds I did not know. I just hoped that I could contain any blood that escaped--it wouldn't do to be bleeding all over Aunt Petunia's precious floors, now would it?

The sound of someone unlocking my door shakes me from my thoughts and gives me barely enough time to prepare for the entrance of an irked Aunt. Her glare and harshly spoken commands are all the prompting I need to quickly attend to my duties.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Did you hear, my dear, that Johnston might be let go?" Petunia's eyes shot up from the pancakes she was cutting on Dudley's plate in shock, obviously not expecting the candid statement Vernon just divulged.

"Smith? Smith Johnston? The nice young man who used to buy ice cream for our dear Dudleykins?" Aunt Petunia asked before she quickly returned to cutting Dudley's pancakes in hopes to end Dudley's loud and rather obnoxious protests.

"The one and the same." Vernon answered before flipping to the next page of his newspaper.

"How dreadful! What ever for?"

"Apparently Mr. Wellington did not appreciate it when Johnston was caught embezzling funds from the company." I wanted to snort at this statement, but I knew better. After all, who was I to judge how Vernon spoke of his fellow partner in crime?

"Johnston? Embezzling? How horrible! I never would have thought he would do something so dreadful!" Finished with the task of cutting Dudley's pancakes, Aunt Petunia swiftly returned to her seat and proceeded to serve herself breakfast.

"Shocking isn't it? It just goes to show why we must keep such high moral standards." Not wanting to get into trouble for reacting to Uncle Vernon's hypocrisy, I returned my focus to the dishes I was washing and tuned out their conversation. Although, it wouldn't have mattered if I tuned them out or not for just a few seconds later the door bell rang and quickly put a stop to their conversation.

"Well, what are you waiting for boy? Go answer the door!" I refrained from commenting that I was already exiting the kitchen when he spoke or rolling my eyes when Dudley elaborated on his father's statement by saying "Yeah freak, go answer the door!"

The empty hallway amplified the sound of my footsteps as I approached the front door and I couldn't help but wonder who would be visiting my family at this early hour of the morning. My hands grazed against the wood of the door as I looked through the peep hole to see who it was. Damn, I have the worst luck; it would almost be funny if it weren't for the repercussions I knew would accompany this unwelcome guest.

Sighing inwardly, my hand reached for the door as I focused my gaze on the ground, determined to lesson the consequences as much as possible. As if to mock my growing dread, the click of the locks amplified within my eardrum in a pathetic imitation of a ticking clock.

As the door opened I lifted my eyes ever so slightly so as to view the slim figure before me. He was your average looking male, the only noticeable feature of his being the sandy brown hair that rested upon the boney structure of his face. He wore a grey suit that, while not in horrible condition, had defiantly seen better days.

His dull brown eyes passed over my form briefly before resting on the figures in the kitchen. A small part of me wanted to smirk when I heard his shaky indrawn breath; at least I wasn't the only one dreading this confrontation.

Gathering his small bit of courage, he passed his rugged brown trench coat to me before walking towards the kitchen with a false air of confidence.

No one heard my meek "Good morning Mr. Johnston."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Riddle's POV**

What a paradox, these pathetic creatures which grovel at my feet. Their minds are enveloped in delusions of grandeur and yet, with a small burn in their arm, they are brought down to their knees before me, a half breed. I would delight in such beauty if it were not so repetitively dull.

A scream rips through the air and I lift my eyes in bored curiosity to the figures before me. One stands tall with an aura of aristocracy exuding from his very pores. His fine sculptured body is perfectly framed by his black tailored suit and enticingly foreboding dark robes. If one were a suicidal fool they would mistake his ebony dragon hide boots and beautiful long silver hair as feminine, but I am no fool.

I know the danger that rests within his angelic face and perfected mannerisms. He is the slyest of hunters and does not lower himself to stalking his prey, whether it be from afar or from within their shadows. Instead he entices them to him, befriends them, loves them, and all the while encompasses them with his sweet webs, making them beg for his spidery touch. He is my favorite toy, but a toy is all he can be.

For even my favorite toy has been corrupted from the pure state he might have once reached. If I could weep for the unblossomed cruelty within him I would. His mind has been twisted with biases and preconceptions that limit the very nature of his passion and I am forced to use him as nothing more than a tool. Ah, pitiful Lucius, at the very least, you still bring a small light to my dim world.

As if to juxtapose my toy's beautiful and dark nature, the small figure at Lucius' feet curls in on herself and almost succeeds in obscuring that which plagues her trembling, dirt-ridden form.

I remember when her smile first graced my presence. I had thought her beauty was unmatched and loved to rest my eyes upon her. The ghostly shade of her skin and the slender curve of her lithe body could easily have been mistaken for that of a water nymph's—her silk black hair only adding to the illusion.

But those eyes! I had never seen such eyes in my life! It was like looking into a set of living rubies born from the blood of a massacre! How I miss her laughter and the dancing light within those ruby eyes.

We had been young and she had been foolish. No more shall the sun play its music upon her skin; no more will the forest rejoice for her smile. She will forever remain a shadow of the woman I once knew, imprisoned within my world—never allowed to live or to die.

I gaze down at the creature that had once captured my heart—her disgusting dirty form no longer resembling even the smallest shred of the lady she once was—before letting it rest upon Lucius. He stares back, his wand laying limp against his side, as he waits for my instructions.

"Why do you pause Lucius?" Lucius hesitates before answering, afraid of incurring my wrath.

"My lord, if I continue she will die." I frown at him, my eyes becoming a dangerous shade red that reflects my annoyance.

"Do not be foolish Lucius, you may continue."

Lucius hesitated for a moment before lifting his wand again; I loved watching my toy play. He truly was one of my most creative torturers; I wonder how his son will compare?

"Lucius, how old is you son?" I ask my curiosity now peaked. Lucius lowers his wand once more before turning to face me again.

"Sixteen, my lord." Leaning back in my onyx chair—a beautiful masterpiece of interwoven snakes— I watch Lucius for a moment, observing the stiffness of his stance; he is ill at ease.

"He will be of age soon. When do you expect him to accept my mark?"

"Before the end of the summer, my lord."

"That would be acceptable." I pause. "You seem troubled. Why?"

My eyes narrow, ready to detect the simplest of lies.

"Draco has grown silent, my lord. I fear his loyalties stray." Lucius was still extremely tense, but I detected no lie.

"Then fix it. And do not trouble me with such meaningless problems." I snap at him before continuing. "Now leave my presence. I have much to think on."

My toy nods before lowering himself into a graceful bow. After a few moments he stands again and takes my beloved by the arm before dragging her out. She leaves a trail of blood in her wake, but that is not what troubles me. It was those eyes that glanced at me from the doorway. Those blood red eyes that I love and hate so much.

Somehow, I never feel like the king I am when those bloody eyes gaze at me.

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**Authors Note:**

Sorry it took me so long to update! I had a few technical problems and then, when I finally fixed those problems, my classes started up! Sadly though, the next update will probably take just as long.

Thank you so much for the reviews and I hoped you liked this chapter.


	3. Triggers and Fears

_Something's getting in the way,_

_Something's just about to break,_

_I will try to find my way in the diary of Jane._

_So tell me, how it should be!_

_As I burn another page,_

_As I look the other way,_

_I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane._

_So tell me, how it should be!_

_Desperate I will crawl,_

_Waiting for so long,_

_There's no love, there's no love._

_Die for any one, what have I become?_

_Breaking Benjamin "The Diary of Jane"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

His dull brown eyes passed over my form briefly before resting on the figures in the kitchen. A small part of me wanted to smirk when I heard his shaky indrawn breath; at least I wasn't the only one dreading this confrontation.

Gathering his small bit of courage, he passed his rugged brown trench coat to me before walking towards the kitchen with a false air of confidence.

No one heard my meek "Good morning Mr. Johnston."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

"Mr. Johnston, what a pleasant surprise!"

I can hear the tenseness in my Aunt's voice and cannot prevent the shivers that course through my body. Quickly, I hang up Mr. Johnston's coat before retreating to the base of the staircase.

"Yes, yes, I suppose it is." Mr. Johnston pauses, obviously unsure of what to say. "If, it's all right I would like to speak with Mr. Dursely?" His voice climbs a few notes as he speaks and I can tell that he is obviously distressed. Good. If he was going to get me in trouble, than he can damn well be distressed.

"Hmm… I'm afraid that my family and I are currently eating, perhaps another time." The dismissal is clear in my Uncle's voice but the idiot either didn't notice or didn't care. Oh, I'm in so much shit.

"I-I'm a-afraid I'm going to have to in-insist." came the mouse like reply that I wanted to curse to the deepest levels of hell.

The air stilled and during this time nothing was spoken, but nothing needed to be spoken for I could easily imagine the silent exchange of body language.

The most obvious would be my cousin whose gleeful eyes would be watching the interchange like a scavenger waiting for a white rabbit to run itself to death. He wouldn't understand the topic, but he would easily pick up on the hostility between the adults.

My Aunt's lips would thin and her grip would tighten on her silverware as she looked to my Uncle for guidance. Her sharp eyes would bore into his side demanding that he fix the situation before it can have a negative effect on her child.

Vernon would pay neither of them attention for he would be eyeing the bastard who dared to challenge his authority. His eyes would sharpen to such a point that they would be dwarfed by his flushed, fat cheeks and his massive body would swell to an even greater degree in the attempt to intimidate. And, this intimidation would work.

Mr. Johnston would be standing before them like a chastised child who refused to waver. His skin would take on a sickly pale shade as his eyes widened in terror. His digits would fidget as he attempted and failed to stand tall, but he would persevere.

And, when I heard the resigned sigh of my Uncle, I knew that Mr. Johnston's perseverance had gifted him with the audience he desired. Poor fool.

"Petunia darling, would you mind taking our dear son outside while Mr. Johnston and I talk business?"

Vernon is answered with the sliding of Petunia's chair and a quick "Of course dear." The sounds of Dudley's complaints soon follow, but are quickly shushed as Petunia herds him towards the back door.

"Now, Smith, what was so urgent that it couldn't wait?" There is a growling clipness to my Uncle's voice and with growing dread I realize my Uncle's buried fury. A whimper escapes my mouth as I pull my knees to my torso and beg with all that is in me for Mr. Johnston to go away.

Mr. Johnston sighs and I can hear him collapse into one of the recently emptied chairs. "I- I just don't know what to do." His voice has a ring of desperate sincerity and I know that the same desperateness would reside in his eyes as well. Too bad my Uncle wouldn't give a shit. "Anything you could do would be appreciated."

Mr. Johnston sighs again and the air is filled with silence for a few moments before a gruff "And what would you have me do about it" is spoken.

"I-I don't know. Put in a good word with the boss, o-or l-lend me some money to get by right now." I wince, that was not the best thing to ask my Uncle for. Shuffling a bit on my perch, I try to curl further in on my self as I feel the anger roll off of my Uncle.

"We make our own graves, Johnston. Now. Get. Out." Whimpering, I attempt to ignore the panic that clenches at my stomach and the phantom hands that ghost across my skin at my Uncles cold and furious voice.

"W-wait! Y-you dug that grave, same as me! The least you could do is help me out!" Mr. Johnston's panicked voice gradually rises with indignation and soon his yell is echoing through out the house.

A tear escapes as my nails dig into my legs. I don't want to hear this. Oh God, please no! Make him go away; make it stop.

My Uncle's quite voice slices through my mind. "Get out."

"Damnit Vern! Listen to—"

"Get out! You damn ungrateful whelp! Get out!" As my Uncle's growl changes into a screech the phantom hands begin to dig into my body, ripping at my skin. Oh God, please, please, make me a stone! Choking on a sob, I squeeze my eyes shut and attempt to ignore the growing turmoil within me.

I can hear Mr. Johnston's panicked foot falls as he rushes for the door, eager to escape my Uncles wrath. My Uncle's slow and heavy foot falls soon follow, but I couldn't care less, to be consumed by the emotions and memories that held my mind hostage.

A door slams, but I don't notice. Instead, my hands clench tighter around my head and my body begins to tremble and shake.

"Damn scoundrels. Always trying to take what's not theirs." My Uncle turns away from the door, intending to head back into the kitchen, when he sees me. If possible his anger rises even further and his screamed "Boy!" seems to shake the ground around me.

"I-I-I'm s-so sorry! P-Pl-Please forgive me! Wo-Won't d-do it a-a-again!" My pleas for mercy leave my fear ridden lips before my mind even knew what was happening, but it didn't matter. With a muttered "Not yet, but you will be boy" my Uncle grabs me by the hair and drags me from the staircase.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

A smirk distorted my face as I regarded the cowering form before me. It was truly delectable how malleable some muggles' bodies and minds were. Cackling, I let another dark curses ooze from the tip of my wand, the clumps of its sickly tarnished strings creating a nice contrast to my luminescent silver eyes. I loved this cruel pleasure: the enthralling music of my toy's screams.

My mind bathes in another wave of exhilaration as I watch my spell crawl across the muggle's skin before it begins to forcibly drill its way into the girl's spine. There is a small intermission in my victim's screams while the sickly magic grows accustomed to its new host and I use the time to glance at the figure of my father behind me.

He stands, a cloak of calm deadliness wrapped around him, under the pale green light emitted by the scull that is seared into the night sky. It is a beautiful image that is painted before me, but not one that I am interested in. Looking closer I search silver eyes that are so like my own for the smallest betrayal of emotion, the tiniest gleam that might grace his eyes and impart me with the knowledge of his approval.

A shaky gasp sounds behind me, refocusing my attention to the task at hand. Turning, I flick my wand in an agitated manor, annoyed that I could not find the slightest hint of approval in my father's eyes. As if answering to my agitation, the girl's spine begins to twitch, its sharp edges ripping the delicate tissue beneath her skin. She gasps and then the world of sound is once more polluted by her screams. I smile—my eyes warming at the sight of my own genius—as the spine slowly rakes its course surface against her skin in an attempt to crawl out of its dark lair. Finally, the skin is sanded away and her spine emerges. Like the spell animating it, the spine is a sickly and twisted creature resembling a distorted insect.

My father chuckles behind me and I find myself rejoicing at the small sound. Father approved! Now truly grinning like a maniac, I twist my wand in a slow arc, drawing out the great finale of my performance. My lips begin to shape into—

My games are interrupted by the scuffling of a stumbling man as he attempts to insert himself between my victim and wand. Glowering, I redirect my wand and tap my foot petulantly. This thing was going to interrupt my performance! In front of my father! Growling, I began to form a spell for this insolent creature.

"Stop!"

My frown deepens as I watch him stand sturdily before me. Did he not know the proper conduct of a torture session? It's not difficult, I cast spells while acting like a maniac and he grovels at my feet.

"I'll do anything, just please stop!"

That was a little better, but the strength in his stance was still annoying me. I, once again, tap my foot petulantly before starting a spell that would make this thing grovel like the creature he is.

"Anything? And what, pray tell, would motivate you to make such a great sacrifice?" My father's drawl sounds through my ears as he walks before me, stealing my victim's focus from me. I grit my teeth, knowing that I have lost all rights to my victims, but do nothing else. He is Lord Malfloy and my father and as such I mustn't interfere.

The man glances at the girl behind him before redirecting his focus towards my father.

"Please sir, she is my daughter."

As my father's eyes sharpen I know that I am soon to witness one of his masterpieces.

"Your daughter, you say? Very well sir, I will save her from her agony, but first you must do something for me." I can see it now, my father's aristocratic blood shining through as he looks down upon this lesser form.

"Anything, please just save her!" Emphasizing his need, the muggle falls to his knees before my father, whose disgust at this creature's eagerness was displayed upon his features.

Hiding his disgust, my father takes on a bored stance before answering in a monotone voice "Very well. All you must do to save her is fuck her."

"Sir?" I cannot suppress my triumphant smirk as I watch the hope in the creature's eyes slowly dim until all that was left was despair.

"Fuck her like the animal she is. Like the animal you are."

What a delightful thought! My father truly was an artist like no other! As I watch the muggle's phycy crumble before me, I cannot help the cold laugh that forces its way through my lips. My wand lifts in a joyful arch and grinning I—

I awake in a broken sweat as a scream rips through my throat. Panicked, my eyes sweep the room in search of the gore I had just witnessed, but instead are greeted with emptiness. Slowly, I lean back against the head board of my bed, relief and despair washing over me. There was no immediate threat, but the room was too empty. Too cold.

My hand glides across my face, wiping the sweat from my brow as a sigh escapes my lips. I just couldn't take it anymore. I could see it in the way my father looked at me, the way his eyes would so often stray to the calendar at his desk. The time was coming and there was nothing I could do to resist it.

Snarling, my fist slams into the blankets beneath me as I glare across the dark room towards the tapestry. That damned tapestry which maps out my past and future: my ancestry.

A stray ray of light slides across my peripheral vision and catches my attention. Turning I glance at the window to my right and watch the moon's light grace the gardens beneath it with a tranquil and ethereal beauty. As far as I could tell it was still early in the night, but that suited my mood just fine. I just want to forget, and be forgotten.

Climbing out of my bed, I trek across my room to my dresser. It was a finely crafted black cherry wood dresser with carvings of dragons wrapping around the edges. It had been a Christmas gift from my mother a few years back. She claimed that an aristocrat's worth can be inferred not only by their clothing but how they take care of their clothing. Of course, if she knew what I stored in the dresser it would have been burned a long time ago.

Smirking slightly at the irony, I slid my hand down the trimming of the fine wood before gripping the silver handle and opening the dresser door. Shedding my green satin slacks, I reach for the bottom of the dresser where I store my "heathen" clothing and quickly dawn an outfit for tonight's activities.

Gracing the figure in the mirror with an appraising look, I allow my eyes to graze across the reflection. Spider-fishnet molds itself to my torso like a second skin and seems to melt into the black leather pants that accentuate my quidditch toned muscles. The sensual qualities of my outfit are further enhanced by harsh combat boots and a rugged leather trench coat that contrast my smooth and pale aristocratic complection. I looked damn sexy and the furthest from the perfect pure blood heir that I was.

Turning from the mirror, I scan the shadows of the dresser for the firewhiskey hiding within them. No matter how useful some of the muggle contraptions were, I would never be able to trust those muggle alcoholic concoctions, even if they did have some interesting names.

Nodding to myself, I strode quickly from the room in hopes to escape the crushing weight of my falling kingdom.

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**Authors Note:**

Um, a few things about this chapter. In the first scene Harry is having a panic attack triggered by his Uncle's anger. I don't know if I was able to clearly communicate that and therefore feed back on this point would be highly appreciated. Also, I barrowed the line "Oh God, please, please, make me a stone!" from the movie Serenity. (I love that movie!)

Just warning you, but I am a stupid college student who, in a lapse of sanity, decided to take 26 credits (10 classes) this term. Needless to say time is a precious commodity and I have no clue when I will be able to update.

Thank you so much for the reviews and I hoped you liked this chapter.


	4. God Bless Endorphins

Author's Chapter Notes:

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic!

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.

_I linger in the doorway,  
Of alarm clocks screaming, monsters calling my name,  
Let me stay where the wind will whisper to me,  
Where the raindrops, as they're falling, tell a story. _

_In my field of paper flowers,  
And candy clouds of lullaby,  
I lie inside myself for hours,  
And Watch my purple sky fly over me. _

_Don't say I'm not in touch  
With this rapid chaos, your reality,  
I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge,  
The nightmare I built my on world to escape. _

_In my field of paper flowers,  
And candy clouds of lullaby,  
I lie inside myself for hours,  
And watch my purple sky fly over me. _

_Swallowed up in the sounds of my screaming,  
Cannot cease for the fear of silent nights,  
Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming,  
The goddess of imaginary light. _

_Evanescence "Imaginary"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

"Damn scoundrels. Always trying to take what's not theirs." My Uncle turns away from the door, intending to head back into the kitchen, when he sees me. If possible his anger rises even further and his screamed "Boy!" seems to shake the ground around me.

"I-I-I'm s-so sorry! P-Pl-Please forgive me! Wo-Won't d-do it a-a-again!" My pleas for mercy leave my fear ridden lips before my mind even knew what was happening, but it didn't matter. With a muttered "Not yet, but you will be boy" my Uncle grabs me by the hair and drags me from the staircase.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Previous Scene's End: (Draco's POV)**

Turning from the mirror, I scan the shadows of the dresser for the firewhiskey hiding within them. No matter how useful some of the muggle contraptions were, I would never be able to trust those muggle alcoholic concoctions, even if they did have some interesting names.

Nodding to myself, I strode quickly from the room in hopes to escape the crushing weight of my falling kingdom.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

A groan escapes me as my mind floats towards the waking world. Harsh floor boards dig into my back and my neck lies at an awkward position. Molten daggers seemed to lance from nerve to nerve, never stopping and never resting in their consumption of my body. I could only think of one word that could possibly describe it.

"Fuck."

Griping to myself, I twist my body to the side, in an attempt to lighten the pain to a dull throbbing, and curl deeper into the blood stained floor. That was foolish. Dizziness swarms my senses before converting my world into a demented fun house. Eventually, my thoughts began to become more sporadic and ridiculous, follow the acid trip of a ride my senses had decided to drag me through.

And, I must say, that "fuck" is an amazingly therapeutic word right now. Don't believe me? Well then, following the laws of the Zingermaffers I must make appease the circus deities by saying it a million times.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…

… fuckidy fuck, snoozle fuck!

And now I am officially sick of the word fuck. But what the hell, I'll say it one last time. Giggling to myself, I lift head out from the confines of my blanket and in a whispered scream declare the word "FUCK!" to the world.

A grin splits my face, acting as evidence for the effects of blood loss and the resulting release of endorphins. God bless endorphins.

Demented giggles escape me once again as I open my mouth and say—

"Boy!"

Well that certainly wasn't what I was going to say.

Sighing to myself, I slowly climb out of my not so comfortable bed and begin the difficult task of traversing the perilous path towards the kitchen, ache and pain being my two sidekicks.

I still managed to giggle the whole way.

While taking on the rigors of my dangerous journey I brave a glance out the window and make note of it being night. Frowning briefly in confusion, my mind reaches for the most recent memory: the beating. Understanding dawns and I realize that the beating must have rendered me unconscious for the duration of the day. Well, that sucks.

Shrugging to myself, I enter the kitchen and look towards my frazzled Aunt who is attempting and failing to cook dinner.

"Stupid boy, sleeping the whole day away!" She pauses in her mumblings when the oven beeps before continuing "And practically doubling my work today!" Bending over she opens the oven, not managing to dodge the black cloud that rises up.

Frustrated, Petunia screeches "BOY" once more before turning towards the kitchen door, only to find me calmly standing in the doorway.

"Yes Aunt Petunia?" I ask in my sweetest voice, trying not to smirk when I see one of her eyes twitch. She pauses, uncertain of what to do, before stalking towards the kitchen table.

"Here." She lifts a piece of paper off the table and holds it out to me. "I didn't have the chance to go grocery shopping today so I'm sending you to do it."

Nodding, I approach her to take the list, purposefully not meeting her eyes, but when I hear her sigh, I lift my gaze and discover an odd emotion flitting across her eyes.

"You look like a mess boy." I nod again, not trusting myself to speak without getting in trouble.

Petunia's odd gaze sears a hole in my head. "How long has it been since you showered?" I shrug. Petunia frowns.

"Well, I can't have you looking anymore like a freak than you already do so go shower."

I open my mouth, about to question the odd behavior, but am interrupted by Aunt Petunia continuing. "Lord knows you look like your about to collapse. When you're finished showering I'll give you a few pounds in addition to the grocery money and you can use it to feed yourself."

My eyes widen in shock and all I can do is stand there.

"Well boy, are you going to shower or do I have to get your Uncle?"

Making a sound of protest, I quickly rush up the stairs and into the bathroom. Determined to not look a gift horse in the mouth, I choose to ignore the oddity of the surreal situation.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

I hate apparating. After all, there is no better way of announcing your arrival to a group of possibly hostile people than making a sound similar to that of a gun shot. Unfortunately, it is a necessary evil.

Frowning, I raise my wand and feel the familiar Alice-in-wonder-land sensation before being dumped on my feet once again. I will say this again: I. hate. Apparating.

I quickly scan the area, letting my eyes rest upon a familiar scene. A waning crescent moon travels across the sky, its pale light dimming the summer constellations around it. The sky is crowded with clouds, but there no humidity in the air. The dry heat rubs harshly against my skin, but that was a small price to pay for the sanctuary I had found here.

All around me were the muggle huts, organized as if they were in a manufacturing line. Each one was just like the next, from their beige paint to their perfectly kept lawn. To be honest, it disgusted me. But, I was not here to observe their huts and as such I quickly passed each of them without giving them a second glance.

A few minutes into my walk, I come across an area where the houses are cut off by a wide road with odd yellow and white markings on it. On the other side of the road trees rise up out of the darkness, their mysterious beauty seeming to glow under the luminescent moon.

I quickly cross the road before entering the trees. The night was alive and its song was carried on the wind by the chirps of crickets. Nocturnal creature would scuttle away from my path, while foolish bugs would accidentally run head long into my moving limbs. All in all, it was a peaceful area.

Catching a glimpse of a ditch up ahead, I hurry my speed.

I had found this little place by accident last summer. Father had begun preparing me for service to the Dark Lord and it became a daily ritual for him to bring a muggle victim to the manor. I would always greet the new toy with a gleeful smirk, my fingers nearly fidgeting with the need to raise my wand against the muggle. But every time my wand was raised, I would die a little more until one day I broke. I couldn't breathe—couldn't think. Screams echoed in my ears and blood dripped from the cleanest of surfaces. All I could do was run and all I feel was chaos and a driving need to escape the ghosts of my victims.

When morning came, I found that I was no longer in Malfloy manor, but instead in a tranquil clearing hidden inside a muggle forest. Waking to the soft rays of the sun breaking through the trees was like being baptized in relief. Since then, I have never been able to abandon the sweet tranquility of my refuge.

The sounds of the grass crunching under my boots slowed to a stop as I approached a bench on the far side of the small clearing. It was an aged and falling apart piece of shit, but it had provided a place to sleep too many times for me to overlook it.

Sighing in relief, I allow my body to collapse onto the bench's harsh surface before reaching into my coat for fire whisky. I quickly pop off the top before taking a large swig of the drink, confident that, should my refuge be stumbled upon, I would be mistaken for nothing more than a muggle delinquent.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

It was so dark out, like the night wished to cloak the presence of a shadow. I lift my face towards the black clouds, every fiber of my being wishing that I could be that shadow. To live unnoticed, a fading presence that exists only to be forgotten.

I shake my head in annoyance and force my mind back on the task at hand, after all wishing only leads to hope, and hope only leads to pain. The sounds of my footsteps become steadier as the speed of my pace recovers from my wandering mind.

A streetlight flickers above me, confusing the many bugs orbiting its bulb and I can't help but be amused by the franticness of a moth. It kinda reminded me of Neville, franticly searching for the light before settling down and starting the whole process over.

A frown creases my features as I reach an intersection and my thoughts are forced to return to my trek. I shouldn't be this distracted. It wasn't safe. I inhale deeply, allowing the rhythm of my heart to calm my thoughts. The problem was, trying to focus after severe blood loss and starvation was like trying to calm an ADHD child after they had consumed their Halloween candy, all in one night. Needless to say, concentrating right now is a wee bit problematic.

My eyes are briefly blinded by the headlights of a passing car and I cannot help the fatigued smile that graces my face. I was almost to the store. My speed quickens once more and soon my eyes are squinting as they adjust to the shop's overhead lights.

Ruffling in my pockets, I search for the short list Aunt Petunia had given me before pulling out a crumpled and ripped sheet of notebook paper. Gazing down at my Aunt's perfectly executed scrawl, I scan the paper for the closest items: flour and chocolate chips. I lift a single eyebrow in surprise before wondering what happened to Dudley's supposed diet.

With a shrug and a sigh I head off in the proper direction, making sure to keep my head down. After all, as the boy-who-lived it would not be surprising if I was abducted by aliens in a crowded grocery store, let alone an empty one late at night.

The shopping passed by quickly and soon I was paying for the Dursley's groceries and a small sandwich for myself. My movements were quick and efficient, if not a wee bit clumsy. Not that it mattered since the cashier really didn't care whether I was in a hurry or not. I often wished that this store included a self check out, but alas wishing it could not change it—and that sounded like Dumbledore. The thought of imitating the old coot makes me shudder, which the cashier gives me an odd look for. I shrug, take my receipt, and walk out.

My steps come to a halt as I stand uncertainly at the edge of the parking lot, attempting to decide a direction. If I go home now, I could probably put away the groceries and avoid the family. If I go to the park, I could rest and eat in peace. Yet, if I go home I might lose my dinner and if I go to the park there will be no avoiding a beating. Growling in frustration, I pass a hand through my hair before turning to the park. Sometimes a small bit of refuge is worth the punishments.

My steps quicken to the point of almost running as my need for rest and refuge grows. I take little notice of my surroundings and instead focus on the path ahead of me. Turning to another street, my path takes me across a neighborhood of cookie cutter houses, just like the ones on number 4 private drive. I ignore them since they deserve nothing more and instead scan for the road I know will appear at any moment.

A grin spreads across my face as I reach the road and gaze at the dark foliage on the other side. For a muggle park it was strangely majestic and I couldn't help but love that aspect of it. Its unusual nature was part of what made it a refuge—that and a hidden clearing.

My pace slows to a brisk walk as I allow the park's natural atmosphere relax my sore muscles. Crickets chirp their sweet melody and the air caresses my body like a lost lover. The moon light flickers through the leaves, illuminating the sleeping inhabitance. Even the clumsy June bugs that collided with my limbs could not change the serenity I found here.

Smiling I round a tree and duck into a ditch that would lead me to the clearing. Giddiness begins to sculpt my mood, probably encouraged from the blood loss, and with a grin similar to that of cat I enter the clearing.

A flurry of shock was the first thing that registered in my brain when I found a person sitting on my bench. Annoyance was second when I saw the alcohol.

"What the hell do yo—" I stop my rant as my eyes squint at the usurper. There was something oddly familiar about the figure. Frowning, I mentally remove the eyeliner and replace the baggy clothing with robes.

Flabbergasted, I hiss "Malfoy!" in outrage.

He looks up at me in shock before summing the situation up in one word.

"Fuck."

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**Authors Note:**

I know that the writing style changed a little bit in this chapter and I'm sorry if you did not like that. It will be back to normal in a chapter or two.

I'm also sorry for how long it took me to update, but on the plus side summer vacation is almost here so I will hopefully be able to update more often. Although, I might not have access to the internet this summer…

Thank you so much for the reviews and I hoped you liked this chapter.


	5. Tenative Embrace

Author's Chapter Notes:

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic!

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved.

_Cynical, just your way,  
You play the doubting Thomas  
Feel the scars and wipe the stains. _

_So you fight, and retreat,  
And talk yourself out of believing  
In any peace that you can't see. _

_Blind words you call,  
Blind words will fall. _

_You're logical, you can't find,  
Any reason to believe in love  
You are blind. _

_Crucify, and deny,  
Pass the blame and burn the mission  
Till dust remains and wash your hands._

_Blind words you call,  
Blind words will fall. _

_Blind words you call,  
Blind words will fall. _

_Jars of Clay "Blind" _

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

A flurry of shock was the first thing that registered in my brain when I found a person sitting on my bench. Annoyance was second when I saw the alcohol.

"What the hell do yo—" I stop my rant as my eyes squint at the usurper. There was something oddly familiar about the figure. Frowning, I mentally remove the eyeliner and replace the baggy clothing with robes.

Flabbergasted, I hiss "Malfoy!" in outrage.

He looks up at me in shock before summing the situation up in one word.

"Fuck."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- **

**Riddle's POV**

Laughter echoes through the corridor, its beautifully harsh notes leaking through the ornate doors to my private rooms. The servants begin a nervous shuffle, uncertainty snaking through their movements as Lucius barks at them to get the door. Before the servants could hurry to their purpose, a flurry of movement and beauty enters my private chambers.

My beloved dances before me, her raven locks swimming about her shoulders before cascading down her back. Her eyes are afire with the light of her joy—she was always so joyous. The darkness seems to dance with her, its cold tendrils sweeping across her rags before somehow merging with her deathly pale skin. And her eyes sing the song of Sirens to my very soul.

A faint gasp leaves her lips as a slight whisper dictates unheard music. "Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts," her dance freezes for a moment as ruby eyes fix on my soul. "Unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty."

I frown at the recitation before crossing to my beloved and taking her into my arms. An embrace so old and familiar intoxicates me as her arms slide across my snake like skin. Her lips brush against my neck, the heat of her breath almost burning me in an inferno of desire.

"Hush my beloved" I whisper into her ear. "Such words are not fit for beauty such as yours."

Her laughter rings out once more as her teeth nip at my collar bone. "And yet, they define our very existence." Her arms slide beneath my robes and her nimble fingers unbutton my shirt. "Oh Tom, my bed is so cold without your presence."

My hand caresses her neck before rising to gently grip her face. "I know my beloved." I kiss her lightly before stepping back and lifting my wand. "Crucio."

Like an albatross, she collapses to the ground—agonized screams eating any traces that remained of her laughter.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- **

**Harry's POV**

Malfoy's chin lifts as his harsh eyes stare me down, daring me to oppose the placement of his aristocratic arse. It is only through the use of pure self control that I suppress the twitching in my eye.

"Go away."

Glaring, I stalk towards the bench.

"What can't you hear, Potter? I said 'go away'" Malfloy whined in a petulant voice.

I send a smirk his way before dropping the groceries to the dirt and plopping my own arse into the seat beside him. "No."

He growls.

I lean back into the bench, allowing my body to enter a slouched position, before pulling out my sandwich and pealing back the plastic packaging. Hunger clawed at my insides and I began to salivate at the thought of food. Unfortunately, my contemplation of food is interrupted by an undignified screech.

"Get off my bench you lice infested half-breed!"

I take a bite out of my sandwich, smirking at Malfloy in defiance.

"Damn it, Potter!"

He kicks me before making a grab for my wrist. _A meaty fist rakes across my battered body, its cruel fingers digging into the purple and black flesh._ A shudder snakes through me and I lose all pretence of calmness as my body curls in on itself.

"Don't touch me" I half growl and half plead.

A sneer distorts Malfoy's face before he reaches for me again; panic seizes me as I dodge his hand.

"I said don't touch me!"

Malfloy smirks. "Then move."

Snarling, I storm to the other end of the clearing and begin to pace. Emotions snap at the edge of my mind, their course grips dragging ghosts in their wake.

"Just, don't touch me." I mutter as my arms encircle my torso and my mind screams in desperate need for protection.

Malfoy smirks before looking down at my sandwich. He reaches towards it. I wait until he is about to take a bite to ask "You do realize that I already took a bite out of it?"

Malfoy's eyes widen in disgust before he flings the sandwich halfway across the clearing. My spirits begin to lift again at the small victory. Smiling, I walk towards the sandwich.

"Your not going to eat that, are you?"

"No Malfloy, I'm going to transfigure it into a swan."

I begin to dust off the sandwich when I hear him ask, "Why would you do that?"

I sigh, attempting to expel the emotions, and my eyes scan the area, searching for any distraction from that pompous ass.

I didn't find any.

"Why are you here Malfoy?"

"Potter, why would you transfigure a sandwich into a swan?"

I glower at Malfoy in exasperation. "I'm not Malfoy, that's just a common phrase used by muggles to inform the person asking, or you, that they are being an idiot and that of course I am going to eat the damn sandwich."

Malfloy sniffs in distain at the muggle phrase before turning back to me. "Potter, that sandwich has been on the ground."

"I know."

"Then why are you eating it?"

"I'm hungry!"

"Potter, I would have to be starving for over a week before I ate something off the ground."

I growl at Malfoy before taking a very large bite out of the sandwich.

Malfoy, one again, sniffs in distain "Plebeians!"

"You know, Malfoy, you look pretty plebeian yourself."

"Of course I do. It's my disguise while I'm in the muggle world."

I chuckle to myself before walking towards the bench.

"Well then, your majesty, would you mind if I take a seat?" I mock bow to Malfoy.

He smirks at me, "I don't know. Now that you finally know your place in life I wouldn't want to give you false impressions of grandeur."

I let out a bark of laughter as I plop down onto the bench and take another bite out of my sandwich. Malfoy gives the sandwich a disgusted look before turning away.

We sit in silence, neither one daring to speak at the risk of disturbing the tranquil air. My eyes scan the sky, but the leaves of the trees obstruct my view. The only visible stars were the Gemini twins. Finally, as I finish my sandwich, Malfloy turns towards me and draws a breath in preparation to speak.

"Why are you here, Potter?"

I turn towards Malfoy, my eyes scanning across his face before observing his body language. Frowning, I curse the makeup he is wearing and its ability to disguise his intentions.

Sighing, I decide to throw him a bone.

"I needed to escape my muggle relatives."

A smile lifts the corner of Malfoy's eyes but I convince myself that it must be a trick of light.

"So, Perfect Potter isn't so perfect."

I scoff, "Hardly." I pitch my voice higher in an imitation of my aunt, "I'm a no good freak and a waste of perfectly good money."

Malfoy lifts an eyebrow, but I offer nothing more.

We pass into silence for a few breaths before I turn towards Malfoy once more.

"Why are you here?"

Malfoy's silver eyes lock onto my own.

"Because I'm not the perfect Death Eater to be."

I wait for him to elaborate, but he merely shakes his head and stands.

"How often are you here, Potter?"

I frown, not daring to answer.

"I'm not going to turn you over to my future Lord" Malfoy says in exasperation, "It just," he pauses, "a rare surprise when I find someone who knows how to enjoy a comfortable silence."

I don't answer immediately, and, for a moment, my mind is a hodgepodge of possibilities. Finally, I meet Malfoy's silver orbs.

"My presence here is sporadic at best, but it is always at night."

Malfloy nods, before grabbing his firewhisky.

"Then I'll see you here tomorrow night."

I open my mouth to argue, but Malfoy quickly apparates away.

Growling, I pick up the groceries and set a path towards my Uncle's house—not once allowing my mind to tentatively embrace its new teddy bear.

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**Author's Note:**

"Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top-full of direst cruelty" is a quote spoken by Lady Macbeth in Shakespeare's Scottish Play.

Thank you so much for the reviews and I hoped you liked this chapter.


	6. Defiance and Drunken Sincerity

_The smell of virgin pages wafted through the swinging doors  
And the croaking speech he'd heard from countries counselors before  
They said "we all care for you, we know how you suffer  
But I know you can succeed, I used to have it so much rougher"_

There's hope in the words and emotion in the eyes  
It's so easy to be misled by the savvy gentle guise  
And like fools we trust the delivery  
But it's all just drunk sincerity,  
It's all just drunk sincerity

In maternal family assembly poised regarding the blue tube  
The numbers crept up higher and the hawks stayed out of view  
Then the generals said "we don't want our boys dead  
Your sons and your husbands will be coming back heroes soon"

With steam, heat, and rhythm in the back seat of the car  
And adolescent perspective projecting life's forecast to the stars  
You heard love from the lips and you were rapt by the hips  
And the promise was eternal but you couldn't see that far

_There's hope in the words and emotion in the eyes  
It's so easy to be misled by the savvy gentle guise  
And like fools we trust the delivery  
But it's all just drunk sincerity_

_Bad Religion "Drunk Sincerity"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

"How often are you here, Potter?"

I frown, not daring to answer.

"I'm not going to turn you over to my future Lord" Malfoy says in exasperation, "It just," he pauses, "a rare surprise when I find someone who knows how to enjoy a comfortable silence."

I don't answer immediately, and, for a moment, my mind is a hodgepodge of possibilities. Finally, I meet Malfoy's silver orbs.

"My presence here is sporadic at best, but it is always at night."

Malfloy nods, before grabbing his firewhisky.

"Then I'll see you here tomorrow night."

I open my mouth to argue, but Malfoy quickly apparates away.

Growling, I pick up the groceries and set a path towards my Uncle's house—not once allowing my mind to tentatively embrace its new teddy bear.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**The Daily Profit:** June 3

**Death Eaters Strike Muggle Elementary School**

By Rita Skeeter

On May 29th, Auroras stepped into a bloodbath that was once Wriggly Elementary School, a muggle institution used to teach children of the ages 5 to 12. The Ministry is conducting an investigation into the destruction of this school, but at the current moment refuses to release any information.

After speaking to a few sources, who wish to remain unknown, it can be deduced that more than two hundred men, women, and children were brutally murdered. One source described the scene as "horrible. All the bodies were tied down to their desks, cut open, and burned."

Experts in ancient wizarding culture, such as Professor Nathan Herron Bulstrode, were soon brought to the scene of the crime where they were later quoted to be referring to this massacre as the "**Inimicus Sacrificum**" Further sources explain that the "**Inimicus Sacrificum**" is an abandoned cannibalistic ritual practiced by purebloods over six hundred years ago. This ritual served as a declaration of hostile intent towards one's future enemies.

Could such a horrible ritual have taken place in a child rearing institution? This reporter finds the possibility extremely disturbing and would like to know what really happened at Wriggly Elementary School.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

I want to say that it hurt. I want to say that disgust and rebellion curled on the edges of my mind. But I can't. I didn't fight. I didn't say no. I could claim that fear controlled me, that the knowledge of possible reproductions held me still. But, that would be a lie. The truth is I didn't care.

My body lay limp as a marionette with cut strings. No, that's not right. A marionette is built to move, and even one with cut strings has kinetic energy waiting in its limbs. I didn't. Perhaps a blow up doll would be more accurate? A creation built only to appease its owner's carnal desires, and unable to aspire to anything greater. I exist to fulfill his whims.

My nude body stretches across the couch, squished into the cushioned springs by the mound of fat crouched above me. I make no movements, except for those he instructs me in, and instead stare into the distant corner of the living room. Idly, I notice that a spider has begun to spin a home and I wonder how much longer it would live before Aunt Petunia would notice it.

I feel his weight shift above me as his grubby hands scrape across my torso, stopping for an instant so as to jerk at my nipple. A grunt escapes him and he shoves his stiff shaft into my side. One of his meaty fists grips my shoulder and I can feel him twist my body into a better position for his friction. In a detached part of my mind I make a note to wear a long sleeved shirt with no holes today.

His groans steadily grow louder, and I can't help but wonder why neither Aunt Petunia nor Dudley wake from the noise. Abruptly, he grips my thighs and tears them apart before sheathing himself deeply inside of me. My body doesn't even twitch in response.

A yell of "Oh, fuck" escapes him and his body stills. His fist digs deeper into my collar bone and I know he approaches his climax. Slowly he begins to move again. Boredom stretches out the last of his thrusts, and it is with slight bit of relief that I greet the explosion of fluids within me.

Many minutes pass with the pile of lard collapsed on top of me. His sweat and come drip down my body until it cools to an uncomfortable temperature and I wonder how long it will take for him to catch his breath. Finally, he pulls his shaft out of me and lifts himself up on shaky arms.

"Hurry up on breakfast, you ungrateful whelp" he mutters to me before crossing towards the stairs and up to the bathroom.

I sigh and reach for my pants. My hand trembles as it brushes across some of the come and I berate myself for the slight panic that rises within me. Now was not the time for emotions. Grimacing I slip the pants on and bite my tongue to prevent any noise that might escape my lips. It would be quite a while before I could clean his fluids off me.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

Hangovers—there is nothing worse than a hang over.

"Master Draco sirs was supposed to be's up at eight! Master's mother be's very upsets sirs!"

Correction, there is nothing worse than a house elf's voice during a morning hangover.

"I'll see her soon, Pippy. Retrieve the blue potion on the top shelf." The house elf's "eep" as she rushed to my shelf did little to lessen my headache and much to strengthen it.

"Masters always drinking potions. What type of potion be it sirs?"

A growl escapes my throat before I answer "A happy potion." Sneering, I swiped the potion from the annoying house elf and down it quickly, never noticing the elf's ever widening eyes. I was, however, quite aware of its disbelieving gasp.

"Master must be very grouchidy to need so many happy potions! Perhaps master has a mental illness!" Pippy reaches up to feel my forehead quickly. "Nibsy be's telling Pippy all abouts it sirs! Maybe you have b- bi- polar's sirs!" Pippy pauses for a moment, obviously deeply in thought. "Buts theres be's no fevers and without fevers there be's no illness." Pippy nods her head in her sureness. "Master simply be's grouchidy! There be's no illness!" Smiling at her helpfulness, Pippy rushes from the room to prepare a late breakfast.

Groaning, I fall back to my bed, the hangover potion forgotten as I imagined a million ways to murder a house elf; not five minutes later there was a knock on my door.

"Come in." Cracking an eye open I recognize my father's silhouette in the doorway.

"Your mother will be hosting lunch for many of our acquaintances'. You have not forgotten this I trust?" While I could not see my father's face, I could perfectly imagine the arching of an aristocratic eye brow.

"Of course not father."

"Good." My father turns in the doorway, his hand reaching for the silver door knob.

"Father?"

He pauses. "Yes?"

"Nibsy has been reading muggle psychology magazines again." If I did not know my father better I would have believed I heard a groan of despair from him.

"I'll handle it." And with that my father shut the door to my room.

This was not promising to be a good day.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the clouds were happily forming pretty animal shapes, and I was sweating my ass off. Not the most enjoyable observation of the day, but one I couldn't ignore.

Grimacing, I wiped my forehead against my sleeve again and send my eyes heavenward. Really, it wasn't that bad, but I needed something to keep my mind off of last night and contemplating current circumstances seemed to be the best way to do it. Unfortunately, the beautiful day did not want to accommodate my melancholy mood.

Pushing my thoughts from my mind I reached for another potted plant. It was a dragon snap. Grinning, I played with the petals for a moment, allowing the flower to "snap" onto my fingers, before placing it in the ground.

"Aw, if it isn't the little freak," I glanced up slightly, knowing that Dudley would be leaning over me with his band of merry brigands arrayed behind him. "Finally staying in the dirt where you belong?" To my amusement, I was not the only one to role my eyes at that failed insult.

"C'mon Dudley, the show will begin soon."

Dudley frowned at the kid before looking back at me. A sneer marred his face for a moment before he grabbed me by the hair and dragged me to the kid's feet.

"Look Jake, your being new here and all, means you gotta understand certain rules." Dudley gave the kid an evil eye and I wondered how many mafia movies he had to watch before being able to pull it off correctly. "This here is my freak of a cousin, Harry."

The kid mumbled something that I could barely make out to be a "Hi Harry." Dudley's frown deepened.

"Harry here," Dudley took a moment to shake me, "Is a delinquent freak who doesn't know how to properly interact with others. As such it is our job to teach him." I swear he took those words straight from Petunia.

Grinning, Dudley shoved me to the ground before strolling into the house, all the perkier for correcting the new guy. One by one the merry band of brigands followed until only Jake remained. He looked at me for a moment before shaking his head and following the others.

Grumbling, I lifted myself up and returned to my work. Unfortunately, I couldn't get the image of Dudley's sneer out of my mind, or the knowledge that Malfloy often wears the same sneer in regards to me. It hurt knowing I couldn't trust him.

Sighing, I return to my work knowing that I would be skipping a certain meeting tonight. That was the smart move after all… right?

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

The obnoxious fluttering of Pansy's eyelashes was the only warning I had before she slipped her hand onto my thigh. A light smile played across her lips in what I assume was supposed to be a seductive, but innocent, smile. Frowning into my pumpkin juice, I prayed that no one could hear the grinding of my teeth.

"Oh it has been simply amazing just how many proposals my darling daughter has received. Just the other day that young man—what was his name?"

"Zabini, mother, Blaise Zabini."

"Oh right, Zabini came to our home with a dozen roses and the most beautiful diamond ring!"

My mother smiled down at the annoying woman from across the table, her rich elegance acting as the perfect antithesis to Mrs. Parkinson's gaudy outfit and simpering movements.

"Well, I hope that Ms. Parkinson and Mr. Zabini find happiness together." I could almost believe that my mother was sincere… almost.

"Oh please! My Pansy didn't give him an answer! After all we must wait until all the offers are made before picking the best match for our darling daughter." At this Mrs. Parkinson eyed me in a significant manner. "Isn't that right dear?"

Mr. Parkinson turned to Mrs. Parkinson. "Of course, dear."

"We too have been given many offers for our daughter's hand in mirage." Mrs. Greengrass eyed Mrs. Parkinson with distaste before continuing. "I can now easily trust my daughter will be well taken care of, no matter who she is married to." There was that significant glance again.

"Only now?" Mrs. Parkinson snipped causing Mrs. Greengrass to glare at her from down the table.

"Of course, we have always trusted our daughter to do well, but now we have the proof of such belief." Mr. Greengrass answered carefully in an attempt to prevent his wife from answering with anything improper.

Mrs. Parkinson hum was the only answer before her attention was turned back to her plate.

I felt a second hand placed on my other thigh. To say that I wanted to cry, scream, and curse my defiance at the sky is an understatement, but instead I smiled at Daphne. It took even more strength to pretend that I did not see the two glares the piranhas directed at each other. Both hands clamped down almost painfully on my thighs.

"So, Narcissa," Mrs. Parkinson said in what she thought was a sly manner. "How is the hunt for a wife coming?" The piranhas on either side of me perked up at the question. If it was possible the feeling of being meat on an auction block increased.

"I have not given it much thought, truth be told." My mother answered as she sipped on her drink. If I could scoff I would. After all, if she hadn't thought about it than what the hell was this lunch? Conditioning for the dark lord's army?

"Really?" Mrs. Greengrass replied, annoyance seeping into her tone.

"Yes," my father interrupted. "Our family has responsibilities to attend to first. Or have you forgotten who we are loyal to?"

"Of course not, we are just worried that, should you wait to long, the best options will no longer be available."

Somebody, please, Avada Kedavra me right now. Tonight's meeting was looking more and more attractive. As long as there was alcohol—lots and lots of alcohol.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

Glancing down at my knees, I picked myself up off the ground before wiping my grimy hands on my pants. I was done, for hopefully a few days, with the garden. The sun had fallen behind the horizon. I wouldn't be getting many more chores done tonight.

I moved to the back of the house, getting ready to wash off the dirt with the garden hose. A harsh breeze picks up and I shiver at the thought of cold water mixed with it.

I was removing my shirt when an owl swooped down and landed on the porch table. Frowning, I covered up quickly, not wanting even an owl to see my injuries. After all, you never know what spells have been placed on it.

Moving cautiously towards it, I wait for the bird to drop the letter; it didn't. Groaning, I spoke to the owl, feeling like an idiot the whole time. "Drop the letter and back away."

The owl cocked its head at me as if to say why before doing as I said. I scanned the front of the letter for the tell tale phoenix, relaxing when I found it. Still, I wished that I could use my wand to check for curses.

Picking up the letter, I let my finger break the seal, relaxing further when nothing happened. A small smile spreads across my face when my eyes noticed the signature. Praying that none of my relatives would come outside for the next few minutes, I sat down to enjoy the letter.

_Harry,_

_Hi Mate! Long time no write. That is the muggle saying right?__**—Yes Ron, it is. We were glad to receive your letter. It's nice to hear life is going well for someone.**_

_You won't believe what's been going on here! The Order is in an uproar trying to compensate for all the D.E. activities. Can't talk about it much, you know the whole secrecy thing and all. Have you gotten the daily profit recently? Nasty stuff that is._

_**Look, Harry, Dumbledore mentioned that you wrote him about leaving your family's house again. You have to stop that. Things aren't peachy clean on the front lines.-**__People are getting hurt. It really changes a person. __**We need you to stay safe so you have to stay at your muggle family's house.**__ Plus it's not that bad. Moody said he scared the muggles into behaving and Dumbledore said they should be turning over a new leaf now. __**So stop complaining. We know it's not as bad as you say and we know they're not starving you. Dumbledore said so.**_

_**You have to stay safe Harry. So don't pull anything stupid. After all, what good is a dead savior?**_

_**Love,**_

_Ron __**and Hermione**_

I didn't know what to say, didn't know what to think. You can't argue with Dumbledore, right? Fuck that. Anger boiled inside me. How could they think that of me? I'm not just some liar. And there is no fucking way that I'm just their damn savior!

I stuffed the letter into my pocket to deal with some other time and moved to face the owl.

"No response." I growled out. The owl looked down at me with a reprimanding hoot. I flicked it the middle finger before stocking into my wonderfully sweet muggle family home.

All of a sudden, tonight's meeting seemed like the perfect way to spend a night.

I was leaving the kitchen, planning to run up the stairs before my wonderfully loving family could stop me, when my Aunt screeched out "Boy!"

Flinching, I quickly schooled my features into a blank mask before returning to the kitchen. Aunt Petunia stood by the table regarding me with an evil eye.

"Boy, how far did you get in your chores?"

"I finished all of the yard, garden, and outdoor repairs."

"That's it?"

I nodded. She sneered at me. "And what about the laundry?"

Confused, I answered "It wasn't on the list ma'am."

"You ungrateful whelp!" Aunt Petunia grabbed me by the ear like a naughty five year old and dragged me into the laundry room. "Dudley needs his school uniform dry cleaned! I can't believe you didn't do it!" She grabbed a bundle of laundry before shoving it into my arms, followed by a wad of cash in my pocket. "And don't think your uncle won't be hearing about this!"

I nodded my understanding before crossing to entrance way, not believing my luck. This provided me with the perfect excuse to get out of the house tonight. A small smirk played across my face as I closed the front door.

Looking across the street a little child practically dared the fates to try and take his new teddy bear away.


	7. Serenity

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic! Also, this fic is going to take a while to set up so please have patience.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own _Serenity_ by Godsmack.

_As I sit here and slowly close my eyes  
I take another deep breath  
And feel the wind pass through my body  
I'm the one in your soul  
Reflecting inner light  
Protect the ones who hold you  
Cradling your inner child_

_I need serenity  
In a place where I can hide  
I need serenity  
Nothing changes, days go by_

_Where do we go when we just don't know  
And how do we relight the flame when it's cold  
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing  
And when will we learn to control_

_Tragic visions slowly stole my life  
Tore away everything  
Cheating me out of my time  
I'm the one who loves you  
No matter wrong or right  
And every day I hold you  
I hold you with my inner child_

_I need serenity  
In a place where I can hide  
I need serenity  
Nothing changes, days go by  
_

_Godsmack "Serenity"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Draco's POV)**

"So, Narcissa," Mrs. Parkinson said in what she thought was a sly manner. "How is the hunt for a wife coming?" The piranhas on either side of me perked up at the question. If it was possible the feeling of being meat on an auction block increased.

"I have not given it much thought, truth be told." My mother answered as she sipped on her drink. If I could scoff I would. After all, if she hadn't thought about it than what the hell was this lunch?! Conditioning for the dark lord's army?!

"Really?" Mrs. Greengrass replied, annoyance seeping into her tone.

"Yes," my father interrupted. "Our family has responsibilities to attend to first. Or have you forgotten who we are loyal to?"

"Of course not, we are just worried that, should you wait to long, the best options will no longer be available."

Somebody, please, Avada Kedavra me right now. Tonight's meeting was looking more and more attractive. As long as there was alcohol—lots and lots of alcohol.

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

"You ungrateful whelp!" Aunt Petunia grabbed me by the ear like a naughty five year old and dragged me into the laundry room. "Dudley needs his school uniform dry cleaned! I can't believe you didn't do it!" She grabbed a bundle of laundry before shoving it into my arms, followed by a wad of cash in my pocket. "And don't think your uncle won't be hearing about this!"

I nodded my understanding before crossing to entrance way, not believing my luck. This provided me with the perfect excuse to get out of the house tonight. A small smirk played across my face as I closed the front door.

Looking across the street a little child practically dared the fates to try and take his new teddy bear away.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

I hate that fucking sound.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

After all, what's the point? All a clock does is quantify your life. Then, one day, oops, you're dead. And aren't alarm clocks the biggest fucking joke ever? Let's make sure to warn you of all your pathetically important meetings except for one. Of course, that meeting happens to be your last pit stop on the road and death doesn't even give you a "by your leave."

Tick-tock.

The irony is we use these machines religiously because they provide us with a measurement of an immeasurable and constantly changing variable. It's like dividing by zero in calculus. And doesn't that just give you a headache? The calculus, not time—after all no one gives a damn about time, at least, not someone else's time.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Fuck. Where the hell is Potter?

I lift my gaze to glare at the sky, pretending not to notice the continuing measuring of time. My time—my life.

Tick-tock.

I lift the firewhisky to my lips, once more attempting to drown out the ever ticking thoughts.

"You pissed already?"

I don't bother to turn around. "Unlike some hooligans, I do not believe in wasting my life away by waiting for someone else."

"Whatever, Malfoy." The bench creaks as his weight is added next to mine. I lift a bottle towards him, but he refuses. Idiot. I take another sip.

"You didn't dress up tonight."

"What are you talking about, Potter?"

"You look like a wizard, not just some muggle delinquent." I glance down at myself only to see fine grey wizarding robes. Fuck. Perhaps, getting drunk so soon wasn't the best idea. I take another swig of my drink.

"Please, you wouldn't recognize me otherwise." Potter snorts. "Not to mention, that you look as homeless as ever." Potter shrugs.

We sit in silence for some time. Neither daring to speak, but instead enjoying the forbidden companionship. Of course, Potter had to fuck it up by messing with that damn paper in his hands.

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop messing with that thing. It makes too much noise."

"The laundry receipt?"

"Whatever it is, just stop."

We both look down at his hands for a moment before Potter slips the paper into his pocket. The silence continues for a bit before I realize that it had already been broken, or had the silence never existed due to that damn paper?

Sighing, I reach into my pocket. "Here."

Confusion slips briefly across Potter's face before he notes the Daily Profit in my hand. "You never subscribed did you?" Potter shrugs. "You'll want to read this." He shrugs again before taking the paper from me. I made a mental note to break him of that plebian habit.

Taking a sip from my drink again, I listen to Potter mumble under his breath. Finally he looked back up at me.

"The **Inimicus Sacrificum?"**

**I nod an affirmative. Potter looks back down at the paper, before slouching into the bench.**

"Were you there?"

"No."

We were silent for a moment, neither wanting to voice the next part of the conversation. When Potter gaze lifted to meet mine I wanted to damn his Gryffindor courage.

"Will you be?"

I pause for a moment, debating my answers.

"Yes."

Potter nods. "How will I know?"

I don't answer not sure of what to say. Glancing down, I allow us to lapse back into silence, but perhaps this one was not as soothing. Still, it was enough to lull me to sleep and haunted dreams the ever present ticking clock.

Unknown to me, Potter would glance at me that night and make a decision, one that would lead him to carry my unconscious body to his home on number 4 Privit Drive.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

It was cold that night, or at least, it felt cold to me. Draco slept next to me, his soft snores breaking the deadening silence that would have oppressed me otherwise.

I cling to myself, uncertain of my actions. Draco was the enemy. Right? And yet, there he slept, in my bed. I wondered if he was as cold as I was.

Frustrated I began to pace back and forth—to the desk, bed, closet, and back. Desk, bed, closet, and back. I prayed the repetition would numb me, sedate me, but there was no taming the panic that clawed at the edges of my mind.

Growling I crossed back to Draco and crouched so that my eyes were level with his heavily lidded ones. His silver hair splayed out around his head, displaying a soft halo in the moonlight. I wondered how majestic his metallic eyes could be beneath that moon lit halo. Smiling I reached my hand out to touch the soft locks.

He breathed.

Fear clutched at the edges of my mind once more and I stood as if stung. That smell, choking my thoughts, mocking me. I could almost taste the alcohol as Vernon gripped my hips roughly.

But he wasn't here, just Draco. My eyes frantically shift across the room as I begin to retreat. Vernon wasn't here! He's not—but—

A choking sob escapes me as I shift myself under the desk. Hide. If I could just hide. Frantically, I draw the beaten desk chair towards me.

"No!" I begged. "No, please!" But there was no mercy as I was pinned beneath a mammoth body. Angry curses reach my ears, but they make no sense. Almost like watching a silent movie when the camera has been dropped. "Please no!" I cry louder, screaming in the hopes that someone would hear me. "Help…me."

The body above me crouches lower, suffocating me with its weight. A slap races across my face and the world freezes, seeming to balance on a precipice. Or maybe it's a pendulum. Did my mind just ricochet about the inside of my skull? Nothing makes sense. Angry screams filled my ears—or where they my own pleas?

And then it was there, pressure around my neck, suffocating me. I wanted to scream, but I might as well have been a mime for all the good it did me, a mime performing in a holocaust gas chamber. I failed to reach out when my arms proved to be too heavy. Or were they still pinned by the body above me? I couldn't tell. Spots filled my vision and as I slipped from consciousness. I couldn't help but wonder if I would finally be allowed to die.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

A high pitch wail brought me back to consciousness and for a moment I wondered if killing a house elf would be considered homicide. Groaning, I lift myself up and clutch at my aching head.

"Please, no—" sobbing filled the empty space in between broken phrases. "S-some body, help m-me—please." Yep, defiantly an annoying house elf. Grabbing my wand, I lift my eyes to the elf in preparation to enlighten it as to why it should really be crying.

But there was no elf, just a broken child. Frowning, my eyes scan the surrounding area all the while wondering if I was in my father's dungeon. Defiantly not my father's dungeon, even if it was obviously a prison cell. Growling, I search my memory for clues to my location.

Lots of firewhisky, no surprise there. Waiting impatiently for Potter to arrive—wait, Potter? Needless to say, sitting in a random prison cell began to make a lot more sense, but that also meant that the noisy child was Potter.

"Shut it, Potter." Cursing I clutched my head as the wails became, not only louder, but higher in pitch. Fuck.

"Damn, Potter!" Kicking my legs out—I roll to the ground. And it was a roll not a fall, Malfoys don't fall. Although, it wasn't the smartest idea to try to stand up when dealing with a hang over, but I really wanted some silence.

Finally, I manage to crouch in front of Potter.

"No, please!"

"No ones going to hurt you Potter" at least, not yet.

The sobs became louder. Frustrated, I grab at his forearm. May I just say that as a Malfoy, I am not privy to the illogical thoughts of lesser beings but grabbing his arm was not really the mistake it may seem to be. Unfortunately, the ear piercing scream that erupted did manage to force me to the other end of the cell.

"Fuck, Potter! What are you, a banshee?" Throwing my hands up in disgust, I gracefully flop down onto the bed and use a few well placed silencing charms.

I slept like a burdened war king that night.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Author's Note:**

So, I've had a lot of reviews that I've wanted to respond to, but due to time constraints haven't done so yet. Also, I'm posting on two different sites right now so, to save time, I'll be responding to both sites in this note.

**Bucket:** (Review 1 Response) I could easily put more questions in the summery, but to protect our minds from the tacky monster I will resist. Maybe. (Review 2 Response) Grins. (Review 3 Response) Yes, the use of kings at the end of the chapters was on purpose. Let me know if it ever gets tacky though because I'm trying to set a pattern with that. (Review 4 Response) I'm glad you enjoyed the use of the work fuck in chapter 4. I was really afraid that I had over done it. Thank you for putting my mind at ease.

**Thrnbrooke: ***blinks innocently* but Dumbledore told them so. (Yes Ron and Herm are idiots.)

**Mithrilandtj: **The problem with abuse situations is that many times the victims do not leave. Whether this be due to fear of the abuser, shame, fear of the unknown (probably the most common), or a simple inability to get away, it is very uncommon for abuse victims to leave the abuser without prompting and/or help from a third party.

No I did not know about the ferry. Although, it might have just given me the answer to something I've been struggling with at the end of this story.

**Charlie-becks: **Yay, you caught the chapterly teddy bear and king reference! And yes Harry has his Teddy Bear.

**LifeMattersDoesntIt: **I am so relieved that you think this story is realistic. I've done a lot of research in the attempt of doing just that. I can't tell you how many abuse fics have made me cringe because of the unlikelihood of it all.

**General response:** While I have written fanfiction before, this is the first time I've posted it where many people can read it. So I am very relieved to know that many of you think it is well written. Also, I will update when I can. By now you have discovered how sporadic my posting is, I'm sorry if this annoys you, but school and work comes first.


	8. Fairyland

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic! Also, this fic is going to take a while to set up so please have patience.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own _Fairyland_ by Angelzoom.

Also, flash backs will be in _italics._

_Colder than Ice  
The World falls apart  
Cold like a Stone  
The spell on the Souls  
Colder than ice  
Your hand on my Heart  
A world made of stone  
Let tenderness freeze_

_Save the Fairyland we live in  
Where all failings are forgiven  
Feel like hunted by a Griffin  
I fall down  
Straight down  
Save the Fairyland we live in  
Where my failings are forgiven  
Feel like hunted by a Griffin  
I'm falling straight down_

_Catch my Daydream  
Catch my Fall_

_Colder than Ice  
Night all around  
Cold like a stone  
The Heart of success  
Wasteland of Ice  
We fall to the Ground  
A World made of Stone  
Let Tenderness freeze_

_Falling down  
Falling down  
Catch me  
When I'm falling down  
Please come to me...__  
_

_Angelzoom "Fairyland"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

But he wasn't here, just Draco. My eyes frantically shift across the room as I begin to retreat. Vernon wasn't here! He's not! But—!

A choking sob escapes me as I shift myself under the desk. Hide. If I could just hide. Frantically, I draw the beaten desk chair towards me.

"No!" I begged. "No, please!" But there was no mercy as I was pinned beneath a mammoth body. Angry curses reach my ears, but they make no sense. Almost like watching a silent movie when the camera has been dropped. "Please no!" I cry louder, screaming in the hopes that someone would hear me. "Help…me."

The body above me crouches lower, suffocating me with its weight. A slap races across my face and the world freezes, seeming to balance on a precipice. Or maybe it's a pendulum. Did my mind just ricochet about the inside of my skull? Nothing makes sense. Angry screams filled my ears—or where they my own pleas?

And then it was there, pressure around my neck, suffocating me. I wanted to scream, but I might as well have been a mime for all the good it did me, a mime performing in a holocaust gas chamber. I failed to reach out when my arms proved to be too heavy. Or were they still pinned by the body above me? I couldn't tell. Spots filled my vision and as I slipped from consciousness. I couldn't help but wonder if I would finally be allowed to die.

**Previous Scene's End: (Draco's POV)**

"No, please!"

"No ones going to hurt you, Potter," At least, not yet.

The sobs became louder. Frustrated, I grab at his forearm. May I just say that as a Malfoy, I am not privy to the illogical thoughts of lesser beings, but grabbing his arm was not really a mistake, no matter what it may seem to you. Unfortunately, the ear piercing scream that erupted did manage to force me to the other end of the cell.

"Fuck, Potter! What are you, a banshee?" Throwing my hands up in disgust, I gracefully flop down onto the bed and use a few well placed silencing charms.

I slept like a burdened war king that night.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

I'd like to say it was odd waking up under my desk, and maybe the first time it had been. But this wasn't the first time.

Hermione had seen it once. I remember looking into her eyes and wondering what could be so fucked up that it could create odd mixture of shock, pity, grief, and fear. I knew when I saw that look that I hated it and I hated her for feeling it.

There's nothing fucking wrong with me and I am sick of people trying to tell me otherwise. Yeah, I may be a no good freak, but I am not fucked up! Of course, Herm couldn't accept that. After all, _normal_ people, as if there is such a fucking thing, don't fly into random sprees of emotions that leave them curled up in a corner on the floor. So, needless to say, Hermione had to research my new found _condition_.

Not two days later Hermione informed me that my odd fits are actually what you call triggers, or panic attacks depending on how strong the trigger is.

"_You see, Harry, when a young, intelligent, and creative mind is faced with a traumatic experience they might do what is referred to as repression. This is where the mind represses the traumatic memory so that the child can continue uninhibited and functional."_

"_Okay." I mumbled while ducking my head. Did she really have to be talking about this in the hallway?_

"_One of the larger problems with this coping method is that when the child is older and more capable of handling the memory it starts to resurface, kind of like a bubble. The child will then begin to experience the triggers and panic attacks, I mentioned earlier."_

"_Um, Herm?" I noticed that the potions classroom was fast approaching._

"_A trigger is when the child is emotionally reliving the traumatic memory and a panic attack is the same except for being much stronger. For example, in addition to feeling the emotions they would also be able hear, smell, see, and/or touch the memory. It's called a trigger because it is 'triggered' by small occurrences that don't seem like much but are actually connected to the memory. For example, if a person's arms were restrained while being raped a later trigger for them could be as simple as someone grabbing their wrist."_

"_Ah, Herm, could we talk about this later?"_

"_And that Harry, is what I call avoidance. Your mind does not want you to face this issue so it is trying to avoid the subject."_

"_No, Herm, really—"_

"_Now, the solution is for you to face your memory. We can do this through talk in therapy sessions or, which I think is the more viable option, we could attempt a new treatment called Theophostic."_

_It was at this moment that I saw Malfoy walk around the corner with a malicious grin plastered across his face._

"_Um, Herm?"_

"_Now really Harry, the therapy sessions are nothing to be ashamed of and, while your therapist is supposed to be a trained specialist in Theophostic, I'm sure I can manage."_

"_No, Herm!"_

"_And don't worry, Harry, your memories are probably not that horrible, just a little neglect."_

"_HERM!"_

"_What?" Hermione's chocolate eyes glared at me in offense while Malfoy's smirk grew wider and wider. All that I could think was that I was doomed, utterly and completely doomed._

"_Therapy, Potty?"_

_Hermione twisted to face Malfoy, surprise tensing her muscles._

"_No actually." While Malfoy's only response was the raising of a single eyebrow, Hermione twisted back towards me with a million accusations perched upon her tongue._

"_Look, what happened a few nights ago was a vision from Voldiwarts." Both of Malfoy's eyebrows shot into the air at the nickname. "I'm sorry if you thought otherwise."_

_Tears started to form in Hermione's eyes and I wondered for a moment why seeing me as a fucked up person was so important to her. Was I just another class subject to be studied?_

"_Why didn't you tell me?"_

"_I kinda never got the chance."_

_Hermione glared at me once more before storming off in a huff._

"_It's a pity Potty, I'd think someone as fucked up as you could use those therapy sessions." And with those parting words Malfoy sauntered into the classroom, leaving me with far too many riled emotions._

Memory Lane; I fucking hate memory lane. Hell, I think I just hate everything, simply because it is a lot easier than making a list. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts of the past, I slowly crawl out from under the desk, all the while making as little noise as possible.

Time to start the day... By waking up Malfoy; the day was looking better already.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

I hate mornings. I know as the Malfoy heir I'm supposed to be productive at all times of the day, but I really despise being woken up by sunlight in my eyes with the obnoxious accompaniment of pesky Griffindors. Grumbling, I flop onto my side, hoping to at least escape the blasted sunlight.

"You awake?"

"No, Potter, my body is being animated by the Dark Lord."

"Just checking." I could practically feel that bastard's grin. "Not a morning person are you?"

I drag the pathetic excuse for a pillow over my ears. "Go away."

A malicious chuckle escapes my new acquaintance. "Afraid I can't."

If I had the energy, I would have made Potter's ears blush with the string of curses running through my head. As it was, all I could manage was to flick him off. The bastard had the gumption to laugh… again.

"Come on Malfoy get up."

"Why?" I growled only to have the pillow that was so graciously hiding my face from the sun stolen, now I could see that bastard's grin.

"Cause I need you out of this house before my family wakes up."

"Potter, look around you! We're in a prison cell. I don't think mommy dearest is going to care about any parties you threw last night." I pause for a moment before adding the last bit of my amazing wit. "Oh that's right, you don't have a mommy."

Upon reflection, and the not so soft smack to the back of my head, perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say.

"Actually, what you so kindly referred to as a prison cell is my bedroom. You really aren't a morning person are you?" The bastard was still laughing, but I finally found a reason to leave the pathetically thin bed. Damn, did it feel good to see Potter hit the floor. It might even have been worth the sting in my knuckles, unfortunately, it was not worth the hurling and spinning room that also resulted.

"Hang over?" Potter hummed from his position on the floor.

"If you realize that then get off your ass and get me a potion!"

"Seeing as we are at a muggle residence, there are no potions." Potter was laughing again.

"Bastard." I mutter.

"Prick." He answers.

Glowering, I turn to face Potter from my splayed position on the floor. "You know what, Potty."

Laughter danced through his eyes as he asked, "What?"

"Your nickname is no longer Potty, Pothead, Scar-head, or any other variations of my previously witty repartee."

"Aw, Malfoy, I didn't realize you were warming up to me so quickly."

Ignoring Potter's interruption I continued on, "From now on you shall be known as Bastard."

Laughter rang out from his lips once more. "As you wish, Prick."

"Bastard." I mutter.

He smirks at me. "Prick."

Growling, I pick myself up off the floor. "Well, _Bastard_, you must have something for a hang over."

Grinning, Potter sits up without a care in the world, which manages to annoy me even more. "Actually, I know a concoction that Uncle Vernon uses for his hang over's. Come down to the kitchen and I'll make you one."

I eye Potter for a moment, debating whether it was safe or not to drink anything he hands to me, before nodding my agreement.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

Smiling I glance at the front door while mopping the hardwood floor. The family was in the kitchen eating their breakfast, but I had no wish to join them. No, what I wanted to do was to walk out that door and curl up in the park while waiting for Malfoy.

Glaring down at my work, I quickly try to pull my mind away from such dangerous thoughts. "Malfoy equals Death eater, you dumb shit." I mumble under my breath.

Quickly casting out for another subject to occupy myself I allow my relative's conversation to drift to the forethoughts of my mind.

"Dudley, darling, would you mind too terribly much going outside?"

"Why?" My cousin whined.

"Because, honey, Daddy and Mommy need to have a talk."

I could just imagine my cousin's pudgy face scrunched in a deformed pout. A moment passes before I hear a slow shuffling of feet and the back door opening and closing.

A tense moment passes between my relatives before my Uncle speaks up. "Well dear, what is it you wished to speak about?"

"I saw him."

"Him?" My uncle asks in confusion.

"Your old associate, Mr. Johnston."

A moment passes before my uncle answers. "I hope he wasn't terribly ill mannered."

"No, no. Not at first. I was out with the girls, just doing some shopping, when I happened upon him. We exchanged pleasantries and were about to part when he asked to speak with me. I could hardly refuse without seeming rude." My aunt pauses for a moment and I could almost imagine her looking down at her placemat. "He was begging for help, again."

"Did he hurt you?" My uncle asked with fury evident in his voice.

"No, no. Its just, Vernon, that could have been us. Please, we must do something to—"

"Absolutely not!" I could hear Uncle Vernon's chair scrape and the plates rattle as he stood up.

"But—"

"I said no!" Furious my Uncle stormed down the hall and I quickly busied myself with the floor, praying that I would be ignored.

When such prayers were not answered, all I could remember was why some little girls were not allowed to have teddy bears.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.--.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Author's Note:**

So, incase you forgot who Mr. Johnston is you might want to reread chapter 3.

By the way, the idea for the Prick and Bastard nicknames was shamelessly barrowed from the Black Jewels Trilogy. If you haven't read this book series then you need to hit up the nearest Borders (or B&N if you prefer them). It is one of the best book series I have ever read.

Also, I want to say thank you to my new and amazing beta, MoonlitxPursuit!

Thank you so much for the reviews! They really help me keep the story going. I hoped you liked this chapter.


	9. Conflict

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic! Also, this fic is going to take a while to set up so please have patience.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own _He_ by Jars of Clay.

_Don't try to reach me, I'm already dead._

_The pain when it grips me, for things that I've done._

_Well, I try to make you proud,_

_But for crying out loud,_

_Just give me a chance to hide away._

_Exhaustion takes over,_

_Will this some day be over?_

_Fearful tears are running down,_

_The pain you've laid don't speak a sound,_

_Don't take my heart away from me,_

_And they think I fell down… Again._

_Daddy, don't you love me,_

_Then why do you hit me?_

_Mommy, don't you love me,_

_Then why do you hurt me?_

_Well, I try to make you proud,_

_But for crying out loud,_

_Just give me a chance to hide away._

_Exhaustion takes over,_

_Will this some day be over?_

_Fearful tears are running down,_

_The pain you've laid don't speak a sound,_

_Don't take my heart away from me,_

_And they think I fell down._

_A teardrop falls from up in the heavens,_

_Drowning the sorrows of angels on high,_

_For the least of the helpless, the hopeless, the loveless,_

_Your Jesus, his children, he holds in his eyes._

_He loves you, he sees you, he knows you,_

_Protects you, he needs you, he holds you…_

_Jars of Clay "He"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Harry's POV)**

"No, no. Not at first. I was out with the girls, just doing some shopping, when I happened upon him. We exchanged pleasantries and were about to part when he asked to speak with me. I could hardly refuse without seeming rude." My aunt pauses for a moment and I could almost imagine her looking down at her placemat. "He was begging for help, again."

"Did he hurt you?" My uncle asked with fury evident in his voice.

"No, no. Its just, Vernon, that could have been us. Please, we must do something to—"

"Absolutely not!" I could hear Uncle Vernon's chair scrape and the plates rattle as he stood up.

"But—"

"I said no!" Furious my Uncle stormed down the hall and I quickly busied myself with the floor, praying that I would be ignored.

When such prayers were not answered, all I could remember was why some little girls were not allowed to have teddy bears.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**The Daily Profit**

**JUNE 15th**

**Death Eaters Strike Muggleborn Refuge**

By Rita Skeeter

Midway through the month of May, Ministry officials began to move muggle born citizens to refugee camps. This "mandatory relocation" was conducted in complete secrecy by what some claim to have been the Unspeakables. Many of these muggle born families have been reported missing by worried neighbors and extended family. One neighbor said, "They just disappeared. There was no sign that the family had packed any belongings and there weren't any signs of a struggle. They just upped and disappeared."

On June 6, the dark mark was found floating above one of the Ministry protected muggle born refugee camps. The camp was protected by the Fidelius Charm and the relocation of the muggle born families were performed in complete secrecy; one is left to wonder how this attack was achieved.

While the camp is not open to public viewing, this reporter still managed to sneak a peek and was astonished by what she found. The bodies of the deceased were placed in a particular formation that invoked a highly illegal and dark protection spell. This particular spell, the _Cruento Custodia_, comes from an ancient pureblood war ritual that was outlawed over two hundred years ago.

The scene of the crime was not the only disturbing aspect of this camp. The living quarters were cramped with little to no personal items and it was obvious that multiple family units were forced to live in a space no larger than the average person's kitchen. Moreover, the camp's food storage fell far from meeting the Health regulations set by Briaris Borch in the act of 1909. Perhaps, it is not so surprising then that the bodies of the deceased were severely malnourished.

Many secrets seem to have been brought to light with this recent attack, but also many questions. How was the camp found? What was the purpose of invoking not only the _Cruento Custodia_ but also the _Inimicus Sacrificum_**?** What was really going on at this camp before the attack? While we don't have the answers yet, this reporter intends to discover the truth.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

It was odd, seeing the house so empty. Not a sound reverberated through out the walls, there were no pounding footsteps of a whale waddling down the stairs or the sizzling of bacon in the kitchen. The most discomforting of all was the lack of a flickering telly light, I was completely alone in the 'family' home.

Uncertainty raked shivers up and down my body as I noted that there was no list of chores. Something was wrong. Frowning, I glance down at my broken wrist, the most recent result of my uncle's attention. He had seemed so frightened last night. As if he wanted the trouble to have come from me, that way at least, he could put a face on the demon.

Sighing, I began to walk towards the door. Considering the recent trouble, staying in the empty house would simply be too dangerous. And really, there was only one place I could truly call sanctuary.

Scoffing at myself, I wonder how my enemy's hideout had ever become my sanctuary. After all, it had only been two weeks since we had first stumbled upon each other.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

The night was still young when I left my home. I knew that I would be far too early to meet Potter, but I really didn't care. Snape had visited this morning. His eagle eyes had never left my form during breakfast and soon he and my father retreated to one of the more guarded studies; that was how I knew. Soon, the Dark Lord would call upon me to serve and I would need to answer.

My body was weakened from dread and my mind floated in a listless fog by the time I reached the park. I didn't see the foliage that surrounded my sanctuary, nor did I hear the crickets which sung of the soft night. But like a sharp knife the slight whimpers coming from the bench were able to perforate the thick gauze I had wrapped around myself.

Frowning, I approached the bench and gazed down at the sleeping Potter. He had curled into a fetal position, half on and half off of the bench, with his arms closely cradled to his chest. Harsh lines marred his face and even in sleep you could tell there was no rest for him.

Slowly I move closer as my eyes are drawn back towards his arms. There was something off, something I couldn't name. Slowly I raked my eyes across his form, noting every tiny detail, from his thin frame, to the dark bruises peaking out from under his shirt. It was with a final hiss that my eyes fell upon the boy's wrist. There was an obvious deformation to it, as if there was a disconnection between his arm and his hand. It was with great queasiness that I realized that his hand rested a good two centimeters below his arm.

Breathing slowly to calm myself, I reach out a hand to wake Potter. "Come on, Bastard. Wake up."

He frowns up at me for a moment, his eyes still not registering my presence. Finally, with a shake of his head I hear an unsteady, "Malfoy?"

"Yeah Bastard, it's me."

He shakes his head once more. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Pansy decided that I was not man enough for her, so I am here to offer you my hand in marriage."

He snorts and for a moment I see a glint of the old Potter in his eyes.

"Prick."

I smirk at him before shoving Potter over and settling down on the bench myself. We sit in silence for a few moments before I dare to speak.

"What happened?"

He looks at me with confusion before I nod towards his wrist.

"I broke it."

I snort. "Really, Potter? I never would have guessed. How?"

He frowns before answering, "I fell."

"And the bruises?"

"I told you, I fell."

We glare at each other, neither one willing to give ground before I respond, "Potter, those bruises are shaped like fingers."

He huffs in irritation. "What do you want to hear, Malfoy? That I was mauled by a couple of death eaters on the way to the grocery store?"

"I want the truth."

"Tough."

"Potter—"

"No Malfoy. Just drop it."

"No."

"Why, Malfoy? Why does it even matter?"

I look away from him, unable to answer.

"Exactly."

Frustrated, Potter stands and begins to stomp towards the edge of our sanctuary. I knew that if I let him leave, I would never see him again.

"Stop!" I call out desperately. He pauses, but does not turn around.

Growling, I stalk towards him. Tension thickens in the air and it's with great frustration that I force him to face me. He flinches as I grab his wrist and I become even more enraged.

"Why Potter? Why do you flinch every time someone touches you?" He doesn't answer, but instead continues to look at the ground.

Growling I continue to speak, "Why must you avoid answering questions?" Slowly my voice rises with m anger, "AND WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU INJURED?" With my final scream we both tumble towards the ground and I can hear him gasp in pain as his wrist collides with the hard earth. Growling, I pitch myself on top of him and pin his hands above his head.

"Why?" I whisper harshly.

A slight sob escapes the boy beneath me. "I'm sorry."

"What?" I ask, slightly taken aback.

"I'm sorry! I'll be good! I promise! Just please, please don't hurt me!" Slowly Potter's ramblings grow in volume and it is with great shock that I leaned back and released Potter's hands.

"I promise no more magic. I'll be good. I promise."

Flabbergasted, I quickly remove myself from Potter's person and watch in disturbed silence as he curls into a fetal position. Sobs wrack his entire body and his pleas are like glass in my ears. With growing dread I realize the Golden Boy is not only broken, but has been broken for a very long time.

After an eternity of hell Potter's cries began to tapper off. I watch in silence ready to act on the first sign of coherence. It was with relief that I greeted the first understandable word to leave Potter's lips.

"Prick?"

Smiling, I slide closer to Potter, "Yeah Bastard. I'm here."

He nods slightly, but does nothing else. I watch over the next half hour as he slowly unfurls: the death grip that he was maintaining on his injured wrist slowly loosens, his legs sluggishly lower to reveal the chest they had previously been guarding, and ever so slightly his head lifts until his eyes are once more even with my own.

"I'm sorry." He mutters.

"Don't be."

"I suppose I owe you an explanation." Potter grumbles with obvious distaste.

I smirk at him for a moment, "I'm afraid, Potter, that that is a little late."

He nods. We fall into silence for a while.

"How have you hidden this at school?"

Potter shrugs and for a moment I believed there would be no more to his answer.

"It's not really a problem."

I lift a disbelieving eyebrow.

"It's not."

He sighs when I continue to look at him with disbelief.

"For the most part I'm able to live detached from my memories and their corresponding emotions. The more I trigger the further detached I become."

"But?" I prompted.

He sighs and continues. "But, when I'm here, I can't disassociate. I can't pretend and I can't hide."

"Because you have returned to the original situation." I mutter with understanding.

A slight nod is his only response. We lapse into silence once more, neither of us willing to break the odd tranquility that had overtaken us. Finally, when the damp grass became too chilled for my skin, I spoke.

"We really need to put cushioning charms on the bench."

A hysterical giggle bubbles out of Potter's mouth.

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**Author's Note**

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also, thank you so much for the reviews they really helps me keep going and to know when something is or isn't working.

I love my beta MoonlitxPursuit because she puts up with my odd schedule and protects you guys from my stupid mistakes!

Okay so time for some quick responses to reviews:

**Grimmich: **So I was imagining the hangover brew to be something similar to what Spike uses in Cowboy Bebop. And yes, there is a reason as to why Petunia has been kinda nice to Harry, but I'm not telling.

**LifeMattersDoesntIt: **I really just want to tell you how much I love your name! And to say that I completely understand about the alert thing since I just did the same thing for Bounty Hunter II.

**October: **So how was the inevitable confrontation that you were looking forward to? I'm glad my titles work because I always thought that I was the worst at naming shit.


	10. Oops

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic! Also, this fic is going to take a while to set up so please have patience.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own _"Scream" _by ZoeGirl.

_Does anybody know how I feel,_

_Sometimes I'm numb; some times I'm overcome,_

_Does anybody care what's going on?_

_Do I have to wear my scars _

_Like a badge on my arm for you to see me?_

_I need release…_

…_Has anybody seen what's been done?_

_Where was my defense? _

_No one heard my protest…_

…_Do I have to scream for you to hear me?_

_Do I have to bleed for you to see me?_

_Cause I am real, you're not listening to me_

_And I've been lost, set apart,_

_Been cut so deep and afraid of the dark,_

_One drop of blood from the hole in your hand,_

_Is enough to heal me_

_And make me stand._

_Cause I am clean. He is listening to me._

_ZoeGirl "Scream"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Draco's POV)**

"For the most part I'm able to live detached from my memories and their corresponding emotions. The more I trigger the further detached I become."

"But?" I prompted.

He sighs and continues. "But, when I'm here, I can't disassociate. I can't pretend and I can't hide."

"Because you have returned to the original situation." I mutter with understanding.

A slight nod is his only response. We lapse into silence once more, neither of us willing to break the odd tranquility that had overtaken us. Finally, when the damp grass became too chilled for my skin, I spoke.

"We really need to put cushioning charms on the bench."

A hysterical giggle bubbles out of Potter's mouth.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 17

Professor Snape,

I am writing on behalf of a friend of mine. He will soon have to take the dark mark or face the consequences. I was hoping that you might know of a way we could protect him from this.

I'm sorry to have bothered you and I know that writing to you is not the safest thing, but I feel that this is urgent.

Please help us.

Sincerely,

Harry Potter

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 18

Potter,

Are you a complete and utter fool? Sending a message via owl is the most dangerous way to contact me. Next time please exercise an iota of that decaying brain and send your messages through the order or better yet, DO NOT WRITE TO ME!

As for you death eater friend, I am now assured of your Neanderthal-like brain capacity. The simple fact that you would trust a soon to be death eater astounds me. Either way, I wash my hands of this situation. Whether you end up dead or in the Dark Lord's dungeon is of little concern to me.

Do not contact me again.

Severus Snape

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 18

Dear Harry,

**Are you out of your mind?** _What Ron means to say is, that we are highly concerned about your recent contact with a soon to be DE. It is widely understood that DE children cannot be trusted. As such, Dumbledore has asked that we contact you and make sure that everything is okay. _**Yeah man, what could possibly push you to befriend a DE? They're nothing but slimy snakes that will stab—**_we are merely worried about this recent turn of events and would like to inquire about your recent circumstances._

Love,

Ron and Hermione

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 19

Professor Snape,

Sorry.

Harry Potter

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June 19

Dear Ron and Hermione,

You guys have convinced me that I was off my rocker. So don't worry, I'm going to end the friendship. It wasn't real after all. As for the circumstances, I guess I was just a little lonely. You know what its like at the Dursely's.

Can't wait to get out of here and see you guys again. Make sure to ask Dumbledore when I can come visit.

Love,

Harry

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 20

Dear Harry,

_I'm glad to here that you've come to your senses._ **Yeah, that was worrying for a while. I was sure that it had to be joke, after all you and a DE being friends could never happen—**_Anyways, after recent events I have come to the realization that you probably don't understand what is going on around you as a result of your isolation; I thought that I might explain what been going on._

_There have been multiple DE attacks and the public just discovered through Rita Skeeter- of all people- that there have been muggleborn camps. The Ministry assures us that the camps are for the muggleborns' safety, but I'm really afraid that they were more along the lines of WW2's concentration camps. _**Herm explained what those were to me and that was some nasty stuff. Did they really burn babies?**

_Then, there was the march on the Ministry which occurred two days ago. I would have participated, but Dumbledore told me that it was too dangerous for an Order member to call that sort of attention to themselves. Anyways, the march was supposed to pressure the Ministry into better informing the public about current events and a few of the extremists wanted to inform the muggle world about the danger they are in. Certain pureblood individuals spoke out against the march. _**The slimy git Malfoy was one of them. **_Not too long after, violence broke out between the march participants and the purebloods; no one knows who threw the first hex—_**although we all know it had to be the white ferret!**_ It was an absolute mess. The mob began attacking nearby businesses and the Aurors were having difficulty handling the situation. _**Then Dumbledore came in and that was just wicked! **_In just a few minutes Dumbledore had calmed the mob. He gave a very touching speech about how we should not let fear control our actions. In the end, the mob finally dispersed peacefully._

_Harry, I need to make sure you understand how dangerous things have become._ **It's a right loony bin out here. **_And I'm sorry, but I don't think you will be able to visit the Burrow this summer. It's just too dangerous._

Love,

Ron and Hermione

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June 21

Dear Ron and Hermione,

Don't worry about the death eater, he was a right prick. Can we please drop the subject now? I'm kinda embarrassed about the whole mess.

As for what's going on, I am aware of how dangerous it is so I understand why you don't want me at the Burrow. I was actually hoping to spend the rest of my summer vacation at HQ. It should be safe enough there and it's where a lot of our friends will be.

Love,

Harry

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June 22,

Dear Harry,

**You won't believe the conversation we got into the other day! **_I know you didn't want us to continue this conversation, but Ron thinks that it's funny enough to cheer you up. And you know how difficult it is to stop him once he has an idea in his head._

**Herm and I were talking about your mysterious DE friend and who he could be. After your comment about the guy being a prick the idea that it could have been Malfoy popped into Herm's head. Damn, I was laughing for 5 minutes straight. The very idea! Then Herm tried to defend herself and that just got funnier! You and Malfoy becoming friends is about as likely as you having tea time with He-who-must-not-be named. **_Oh, honestly Ron, the least you could do is use his name, although, the whole event was quite funny. _**Yeah, and then we started picturing how you and Malfoy could ever become friends and Hermione pointed out the idea that Malfoy could have used a spell on you—you know, like a love spell! **_It was quite absurd, really. _**Absurd? It was hilarious! Can't you just imagine it!**

"**Draco darling, hold me!"**

"**Why Harry dear, what ever is the problem?"**

"**My family hurt me."**

"**Should I kiss it and make it better?"**

**I was on the floor laughing so hard my sides hurt! And then— **_Enough Ron. I think Harry gets the idea and I need to talk to him._

_Harry, I understand that you want to get out of your family's home, but I'm afraid it's just not safe and thus not possible. Dumbledore says so! And I'm sorry to have to say this, but I agree. So please, stop distracting Dumbledore and let him do what he must to protect you._

_We love you and miss you._

Love,

Hermione and Ron

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 25

Dear Harry,

_We have not received a reply, so we were just letting you know._ **I hope Hedwig is okay.** _Please respond so that we know you are okay. I've instructed Pig to wait for a reply._

Love,

Hermione and Ron

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 26

Harold James Potter,

_You better respond to this letter! Even Dumbledore's worried! If you don't respond, he will have to divert Order members from their extremely important tasks to check up on you and the war just can't afford that right now._

_Please, Harry, we are really worried about you and I would rather know that you are at your family's house than in the hands of He-who-must-not-be-named._

Love,

Hermione

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

June 27

Ron and Hermione,

I'm really pissed off at you guys right now, so fuck off and leave me alone.

Harry

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Tom's POV**

It was in my private rooms that my beloved found me; I had not been there long, just recently managing to relax into the chair next to my fireplace. Yet, my beloved had already curled up at my feet, her soft breaths attesting to the fact that she had entered the sandman's kingdom. In a distant part of my mind, I made a note to flog her keepers for once again letting her escape the dungeons.

There was a knock at the door and I bid them enter. Before me stood Lucius, his head bowed in servitude.

"My Lord,"

"Lucius."

I watch his eyes dart across my figure, taking in my relaxed position before moving onto my beloved. I briefly wondered if he found it bizarre, seeing his Lord relaxed into an obscenely comfortable chair with a fictional book at his side. Finally, I snapped at him to report.

"The attack is prepared. Our men will meet tomorrow morning at O-800 before setting out to their designated apparation points." I nodded my approval as my hand carded through my beloved's hair. Distantly, I notice her body shift and begin to wake.

"And the bait?"

"Our spy has planted information that will assure the Order's presence tomorrow."

I cease petting my beloved as she stretches, her lithe body becoming almost cat like as her back undulates. Slowly, her ruby red eyes seek out my own.

"What do you see, my beloved?" Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as her lips press into my thigh with a light kiss.

"Two birds will be your prize."

Slowly her hands trace up the sides of my legs and I allow my head to role back in response to her trail of kisses.

"Lucius, you have permission to move forward with the attack."

I heard the door close and Lucius' fading footsteps echo down the corridor outside my rooms, but my attention did not remain there as my beloved's hands reached their prize.

"A phoenix's dying flames are said to be so hot that they can purify all that surrounds them." Her whispered breath grazes across my sensitive skin and I barely hear the following words.

"So please be careful, my king, that I do not lose you to them."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Author's Note:**

Okay, so I know that this chapter was extremely short and probably not that interesting, but it had to be done for plot reasons. Either way, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

B.T.W. I have an amazing beta named MoonlitxPursuit that protects you all from my stupidity and for that I will be forever grateful.

**General: **I'm glad that y'all enjoyed this story. I also can't tell you how relieved I am that y'all like how Draco and Harry are portrayed. I must admit that while I try to stick to a strict timeline for this story, every bloody time I write a scene between Harry and Draco the scene ends up writing itself. This has led to parts of the story that I didn't even expect and has made me rework the timeline a few times.

**October Anonymous:** Yeah, I'm nervous to see what y'alls reactions to the Dursley subplot will be. And I'm glad that you enjoyed the confrontation of the last chapter, because, as my beta can attest to, I was nervous about that as well.

**Thrnbrooke:** Not telling! ;P

**Quill of Secrets, Miss Galleta, Ceara1888:** *Squeals in joy* Yay, now I can go on a fangirl tangent with Anne Bishop's work! I have read the most recent book out and it was absolutely amazing and I can't wait for more! Although, I was told by my cousin that this is probably the end of the "Black Jewels" series. *Cringes at prospect* I really hope not. If you have any info on that I will beg you to impart me with your wisdom! Also, I'm really glad the bastard/prick thing worked. The one problem with borrowing from the "Black Jewels" is the knowledge that I will never be good enough to do anything but tarnish its name. That's why I avoid its fanfiction like the plague.

**Melora: **I definitely found the site interesting and would like to look further into it. Unfortunately, I am a workaholic who is currently overloading herself at college (I tend to average 26 credits per trimester), which is why it takes me so long to update. I hope that once I graduate in a year I might be able to take a closer look at that site because I'm sure that it could help me grow as an author. So thank you for introducing me to it!


	11. War

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic! Also, this fic is going to take a while to set up so please have patience.

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own _"Scenes" _by Burlap to Cashmere.

_Boom!_

_Now I have seen the glory,_

_And you will see the fun._

_And we will fight together_

_Like father and son,_

_Cause I am done,_

_Yes I have won._

_In the winter lies a naked man,_

_With a horse and a gun,_

_I shall never see his face again,_

_Cause I am done._

_Now boy you know the story,_

_Fight and you shall win._

_And if you role the dice right,_

_You'll be the next of kin._

_Cause I am done._

_Yes, I have won…_

_In the winter lies a naked man,_

_With a horse and a gun,_

_I shall never see his face again,_

_Cause I have won._

_Yes I have won._

_Yes I…_

_We're going to take over the world!_

_We're going to take over the world!_

_We're going to take over the world! …_

_(Fire at will!)_

_We're going to take over the world!_

_We're going to take over the world! …_

_(We're going to take over the world!)_

_- Burlap To Cashmere "Scenes"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Tom's POV)**

"What do you see, my beloved?" Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as her lips press into my thigh with a light kiss.

"Two birds will be your prize."

Slowly her hands trace up the sides of my legs and I allow my head to role back in response to her trail of kisses.

"Lucius, you have permission to move forward with the attack."

I heard the door close and Lucius' fading footsteps echo down the corridor outside my rooms, but my attention did not remain there as my beloved's hands reached their prize.

"A phoenix's dying flames are said to be so hot that they can purify all that surrounds them." Her whispered breath grazes across my sensitive skin and I barely hear the following words.

"So please be careful, my king, that I do not lose you to them."

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Ron's POV**

A spell splinters above my head and I hear the aurora crouched next to me curse. His right eye begins to twitch and I can see his muscles become rigid. After a few moments, his still form shatters into a mess of ruby crystals. A curious part of my mind wonders what spell he had been hit with, but I quickly push the distraction aside.

Looking to my right, I search out Hermione's form, assuring myself of her well being. She sits crouched behind a pile of rubble, her lips tightly pressed together in grim determination. I frown as she casts another spell; the possibility of her death corrupted any glory her present state of being may claim. I could not lose her.

"Herm, we have to retreat!" My voice is coarse from the abuse of the battle and I fear she didn't hear me for a glare was her only response.

"Dammit, Herm, if we don't retreat we'll be slaughtered!"

She briefly glances away from the death eaters taking shelter behind a book store and I can see acceptance of what may come in her muddy eyes.

"No." whispers across her lips soon to be snatched away by the battle clamor.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Daily Profit: **June 29

**Battle of Knockturn Alley.**

By Rita Skeiter

On June 28 at 10 in the morning Auroras, supported by the Order of the Phoenix, engaged in battle with a large group Death Eaters. While it is not certain what the particular goal of the Death Eaters were, the Aurora department did receive prior intel describing illegal activity that was to take place in Knockturn Alley that morning. When the auroras arrived on the scene they were quickly ambushed by an unexpected group of Death Eaters. Though the Order of the Phoenix did arrive in time to assist in battle, the consequences were quite high. Up to 16 people are reported dead, of which there were 4 civilians, 3 members of the Order of the Phoenix, and 9 Auroras.

More alarming, was the noted presence of an unknown spell, currently being referred to as the "Red Crystal." Almost, half of the dead were reported to have shattered into ruby like stones. While the Ministry is hard at work attempting to identify this spell, little to no head way has been made. The Minister asks that if any citizen has information on the "Red Crystal" that they report to the Ministry immediately. For further information on this spell please look to page 3. Unfortunately, the bodies of the "Red Crystal" victims are unidentifiable. Relatives of the victims have been asked to remain patient as the Ministry analyzes the remains in an attempt to identify the bodies.

Among the "Red Crystal" victims were the war heroes Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. These two, as well as Harry Potter, left their education at Hogwarts early, around last Halloween, so as to assist in the war effort. Little is known about Harry Potter's secret work to defeat He-who-must-not-be-named, but Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley have been on the front lines protecting wizarding citizens from the Death Eater threat ever since they left school. While, the Minister was originally uncertain about the Wizmot's choice to lift the under age magic ban from these three students, he now wishes to honor both Ron Weaseley and Hermione Granger with an Order of Merlin second class.

The Wizarding populace will certainly morn the loss of these two upstanding citizens and we can only hope that others will step into their shoes to protect us.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

I didn't know how much more I could take. The family was stressed, I could tell that much, but there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it; not a damn thing I could do to protect myself. No one mentioned their previous disappearance and I wasn't going to ask. It wasn't my fucking problem and, for once, I wasn't going to make it my problem—not for them anyways.

The days were a hell of—well they were just a fucking hell perpetuated by an ever present silence that never alleviated for one damn moment. I was fucking sick of it. Needless to say, I eagerly accepted the excuse Aunt Petunia provided to leave when she yelled at me for forgetting to pick up Dudley's favorite snacks.

The night air was heavy but comfortable; a good match for the luminescent moon light and dying metal halite street lamps. Slowly I forced my muscles to relax one by one as I waited for Malfoy's arrival. You'd think that the brand fucking new cushioning charms on the bench would help, but they just made it worse, like I almost expected Vernon to materialize at the edge of the clearing just because I'm sitting on a bench.

Fuck, I'm pathetic.

Groaning in annoyance at my own traitor of a mind, I harshly brush my hand through my hair, ripping at the roots in hopes of beating some sense into myself. Hell, you always hear about how a knock to the head can cause mental damage, maybe I'm fucked up enough that it might even fix me.

"Please Bastard, show some decorum" a smooth voice drawled out from behind me. Snarling, I turn towards Malfoy, my body rising off of the bench in challenge. He merely sneers at my animalistic behavior.

"Perhaps, I should save myself from your painfully barbaric nature and leave?"

His comment takes me aback for a moment, and I am able to step back from some ledge. Don't ask me what ledge cause I have no fucking clue.

"No, sorry" I mumble. Running a hand through my hair, I collapse back onto our rickety bench. He nods before throwing a newspaper in my lap and taking a seat himself.

"Read this." He said before continuing with a note of distain, "and try to limit yourself to an appropriately controlled emotional response."

I snarl at him once more before looking down at the newspaper with a frown. Truth be told, I didn't really know what to expect. Part of me hoped that the paper spoke of a rise in power for the light, another part of me begged for it to be nothing worse than another genocide, but the rest of me feared for what was really there.

"Dead?"

There was no answer.

"De—" The plea stopped in my mouth as if I thought I could prevent the truth by not speaking it. Shuttering, I closed my eyes and grasped at my own shriveling body. I kept telling myself to hold it together. I couldn't lose it like this. Not again, and not in front of Malfoy. I took deep breath before releasing it, all the while telling myself that it had not shuddered or whimpered out of me.

"Control yourself, Bastard." The sneering words cut through my mind and for a moment the chaos recedes. I glance up at steel grey eyes partially afraid of what I'd find, but all that was there was blessed calm, as if he was speaking of nothing more than the weather right now.

"Panic will do nothing for them or you."

I nod shakily, letting the fear leak out from my pores and in its place I could feel the grief and knowledge that the two people who had always supported me were now gone. Utterly overrun with emotions I couldn't even begin to name, I allowed my head to fall back against the bench and told myself that Malfoy didn't see my tears.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

I look away for a while, letting my gaze fall onto the sky as my mind flowed into a much appreciated empty state. The Gemini brothers were out once more, I noted with a detached air. Finally, the shuttering breaths next to me even out and for a moment I wonder if the golden boy had fallen asleep. I snort in derision at my own thoughts, bloody golden boy my ass.

"We had been fighting." He murmurs. I lift an eyebrow, but show no other outward response.

"They were always trying to run my life. Tell me what I should do. What Dumbledore wanted me to do." He pauses for a moment, collecting himself before continuing. "They never fucking _listened _to me! And yet," his breaths begin to quicken again as panic creeps into the edges of his countenance. Luckily, a quick glare is more then enough to keep him under control. "And yet, I still loved them. They were the only ones who cared, no mater how messed up that care was."

A few minutes pass and I wonder if I should say anything, but eventually a breathless sentence leaves him. "The last words I ever spoke to them were 'fuck off.'"

I snort, "Elegant as always, Bastard." He sends me an unheated glare. I sigh, knowing it was time to distract him and since the article had brought up quite a few questions, I might as well ask one.

"The article said that you have been on a secret mission since Halloween, why then..."

"Why am I here?"

I nod in answer.

"Dumbledore believes that only I can defeat Voldi." He pauses, a sneer similar to my own making its way onto his face, "It wouldn't due to risk his weapon by using it before he needs it. So, here I am." Anger clouds his features. "Herm and Ron were sent to the front fucking lines to die while I was left here to rot, for my own protection of course."

"Fuck them, Bastard." Potter glares at me, but I continue anyways, "They didn't deserve you. They didn't give a damn about you and if they had then you wouldn't be in this hell hole." I pop open a bottle of firewhisky, knowing that I would need it soon. Of course, it never made it to my mouth thanks to Potter jumping up and spilling it everywhere. I let out a few choice words while shaking my hand dry.

"Fuck you, Malfoy. What the hell do you know about it?"

I stop drying myself to glare at Potter. "I know that if they cared you wouldn't be here now turning to a future Death Eater for help!"

"I don't need your help!"

"Really, Potter, then what do you call this?"

"I call this a fucking mistake!" Shocked, I watched Potter cross to the edge of our clearing, hatred once more controlling his movements.

"Fine! Run away, you fucking child! But remember, that you're never going to be anything more than a child that is so afraid of simple fucking shadows on a wall that you will never let yourself live."

He pauses, the tenseness of his muscles making me think about my own sanity for saying such a thing. "And you Malfoy? What the hell are you?"

I hate him in that moment, hate him for asking that. Fuck, I don't want to answer, but I'm unable to face the alternative. Finally, I let my head drop in a way that would have had me disowned. "I am the same."

His eyes widen, and I can almost pretend that he is sputtering in a most unbecoming way. Eventually, he kicks his legs out and sits in a parody of a relaxed position. "Well, fuck."

I murmur an agreement.

"Now what?"

"What do you mean, 'now what'" I sneer in annoyance.

"We can't just continue as we've been. Not now."

"Fuck you, Potter, I know my place and it's not here!"

"And yet, here you are."

I have no answer for that or his knowing expression.

"Let's run."

"What?" I ask dumbfounded.

"Let's run. Fuck the war. We don't need it and they can bloody well do without us."

"I can't my family—"

He interrupts before I can continue, "Consists of nothing but homicidal maniacs."

"But—"

"Come on Prick, imagine it. No Dark Lords to serve, homicidal fathers to be afraid of, or family names to live up to. It would just be me, you, and whatever we _choose_ to do with our lives."

"Emphasis on the 'choose' I see."

"Of course."

I could imagine it and I wanted it more than anything else. The freedom to live and choose my future. It was like a sweet drug to my system that I couldn't refuse. But I didn't live in that world and as I stared at a broken hero with dull green eyes, I knew.

I would never taste that freedom.

"I can't."

"But—"

"No Bastard, listen to me. We don't live in a fantasy world where ducks frolic under rainbows and the sheep and wolves sleep happily together. Even if I ran my father would hunt me down and kill me for deserting and as for you—" I pause for a moment, hating what I was about to say, but knowing I had no choice. "You are the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord. Can your really abandon countless people to the slaughter?"

He stares at me, stricken. "So what? I'm just supposed to stay with the Druselys?"

I pause, thinking about my words for a moment, before choosing the simplest answer. "I didn't say that. Leave them if you wish, but don't leave our world."

I watch his eyes, looking for understanding that I didn't have a hope of seeing. Yet, apparently Athena was feeling gracious to her least gifted human, because Potters eyes cleared slowly as he recognized new paths that he could take.

"Help me?"

"Of course." He smiles for a moment before I continue. "But only until I'm a Death Eater, after that you will be on your own."

He nods with a new determination that I refuse to admit being happy to see. "How will I know?"

"My father will wish to intensify my training before he presents me to his lord. Stop trusting me when I disappear for more than a few days."

Harry nods again and for the first time in a long time I feel like a child with a new teddy bear at Christmas, even if I know that that teddy bear will be gone soon.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Author's Note:**

Wow. I can't believe this chapter is finally written. I've had the battle scene in my head for ages now. It was one of the first scenes in my head when I started writing this story. Anyways, just so you know, the only reason this chapter came out so fast is because my sister pissed me off and I needed to blow steam. So I'm sorry, but the other chapters will be updated on the regularly slow schedule.

Also, thank you MoonlitxPursuit for betaing my fic and protecting everyone from my stupid mistakes.

Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed the chapter.


	12. To Hell and Back

**This chapter has not been beta-ed yet. I decided to go ahead and post the chapter because I've already made you guys wait far too long. I apologize for the trouble.**

WARNING: This story contains child abuse, rape, and torture. If you can't stand even one than do not read this fic!

I do not own anything Harry Potter related. It all belongs to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastics Inc, Warner Bros., and any other entities involved. Nor do I own _"Alice's Character song" _from Pandora Hearts.

_This forbidden play is a secret between the two of us,_

_In this room untouched by the passing seasons._

_You told me,_

_"Don't Cry"_

_And yet, you left me by myself._

_The butterflies born on nights with a clear moon,_

_Will spread their wet wings and dance a waltz, won't they?_

_I wonder, where are you?_

_You can keep on wandering in vain, little lambs._

_The light of forgiveness won't save anything._

_I told you,_

_"Don't go"_

_And yet, you left by yourself._

_I rest my forehead against the cold glass of window_

_And wait for your visit, my beloved._

_Yes, I'll be waiting…_

_I don't want to forget._

_I want to forget._

_All I want is to keep on sleeping in peace…_

_Someone tell me the reason I was born._

_Only your memory flashes across my wet eyelids._

_I wonder, who am I?_

_Tell me who am I?_

_- Pandora Hearts "Alice character song"_

**Previous Scene's End: (Draco's POV)**

He stares at me, stricken. "So what? I'm just supposed to stay with the Druselys?"

I pause, thinking about my words for a moment, before choosing the simplest answer. "I didn't say that. Leave them if you wish, but don't leave our world."

I watch his eyes, looking for understanding that I didn't have a hope of seeing. Yet, apparently Athena was feeling gracious to her least gifted human, because Potters eyes cleared slowly as he recognized new paths that he could take.

"Help me?"

"Of course." He smiles for a moment before I continue. "But only until I'm a Death Eater, after that you will be on your own."

He nods with a new determination that I refuse to admit being happy to see. "How will I know?"

"My father will wish to intensify my training before he presents me to his lord. Stop trusting me when I disappear for more than a few days."

Harry nods again and for the first time in a long time I feel like a child with a new teddy bear at Christmas, even if I know that that teddy bear will be gone soon.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

I wondered if the others could sense it; I wondered if they could tell how much dread saturated my very foot steps? Could Zabini feel the shivers that ran through my arms as we briefly brushed against each other? Would Nott notice that I did not hold my head as high as a pureblood should? A multitude of doubts clouded my mind, but only one was capable of destroying me: Potter.

A dark mahogany door dominated the stone archway that stood before us, its ornate parquetry giving weight to what otherwise would have been an indistinct threshold. Wiping non-existent dust from his robes, Nott proudly knocked on its cresting panels. I couldn't help but wonder how long Nott's perfectly arranged clothing would remain immaculate.

After a brief pause the door swung inwards—with an unusually loud creak for such well maintained carpentry—to reveal the Dark Lord reclining atop his throne. The room was dominated with darkness, the only source of illumination being a scant scattering of candles. Ominous water droplets and the scratching of claws could be heard echoing off of the dungeon walls. Yet, the most surprising of all was my lack of nervousness. It was as if such a cliché environment prevented me from feeling like anything less than a Malfoy. My only inclination was to desperately call for an interior designer. Perhaps, once Pansy became a Death Eater she could fix the drab décor.

Feeling far more assured of myself, I moved to lead my fellow initiates as we walked down the center isle and knelt before the throne.

With a scathing hiss, the Dark Lord's voice rang out "Draco Malfoy, why have you come before me?"

"I seek to serve you, my lord." I speak the rehearsed words softly and await the next scripted line.

"Do you consider yourself worthy of such an honor?"

"While I am still young, I hold much promise as a valuable and capable servant knowledgeable in multiple areas of expertise. I also come from an ancient bloodline endowed with honor, power, and riches."

"We shall see if you are worthy. I give you one week to prepare."

Preventing a sneer from crossing my face, I bow before moving to join the mass of Death Eaters. This entire situation was ludicrous. The Dark Lord was forced to initiate students far before their time because he failed to keep his previous servants alive in the Battle of Knockturn Alley. Yet, he has the audacity to make it seem as if we chose to approach him. Frowning, I glare at the initiates who have yet to speak to the Dark Lord. It was going to be a long night.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Harry's POV**

I didn't know what to expect when I woke up. Part of me felt like things should have been different. As if the brief hope Malfoy had given me should have instantly changed everything. But, the sun still rose the next morning, bringing with it my obligations to the Drusely family.

Time passed slowly that day and I couldn't help but imagine a little gremlin with a crooked grin cheerfully setting our clocks back. If I had known what was to come, perhaps I would have been thankful to the little gremlin. Instead I found myself standing in the kitchen, frowning at a pot that refused to boil, when my 'home' decided to implode because of one bloody ice cream cone.

It wasn't even that remarkable of an ice cream cone. And yet, a single scoop of boorish vanilla slowly melting and messily dripping down Dudely's pudgy fist was the catalyst for my personal apocalypse. Fate is truly a bitch of duplicity—not to mention that she is in bloody cahoots with Murphy's law.

Of course, Aunt Petunia rushed to her Dudely-kin's aid as soon as she noticed him struggling to maintain the virtue of his desert—all the while failing to close the front door.

Ignoring the toils of his mother, Dudely carelessly dropped his backpack on the floor before promptly situating himself in front of the telly. A dark look from Aunt Petunia was all the prompting I needed to quickly clean up my cousin's belongings.

"Dudely, sweetheart, dinner should be in half an hour."

"Mm, hmm."

"Sweety, do you want to put your ice cream in the freezer for after dinner?"

"Naw."

Uncle Vernon, who had been quietly watching the telly up until this point, chose to speak up. "Dudley's strong apatite is just what he needs to keep up with his summer lessons, so don't nag the boy."

"I was not nagging and, speaking of lessons, how was school today?"

"I didn't go."

Aunt Petunia frowned for a moment before deciding that her son had to have a good reason for skipping school. Smiling to herself, Petunia smoothed a hand through her son's hair before sitting down next to her husband.

I suppose it wouldn't have been long until I had dinner prepared for the family, but I don't really remember what happened next. Pathetic isn't it? I'm like a broken telly that refuses to produce anything but static. I hate it, not knowing what happened, and yet, I _never_ want to remember.

They say that there are situations in which the only options available to you are to laugh or cry, but I guess that isn't always true. Sometimes, a third option becomes available, one that you can't turn away from. It's like a burning molasses that inhibits your movements as it creeps through your veins, slowly shattering and rebuilding everything it touches. After an eternity of fruitless struggle, it reaches the heart of your mind and you cease to exist. Everything you've ever known is stripped away.

I was lucky. Something, maybe magic or an unnamed God, protected a small shard of my identity. It was so small. I'm not even sure if it was really there. Even so, I held tight to it because it was all I had and eventually I would have to recreate myself from it.

Forgive me, but I guess I'll choose to laugh.

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

**Draco's POV**

Fucked. I was fucked. Potter was like an infection, gangrene crawling up my injured hands. He was condemning me to death and I didn't give a damn. No instead I was promising miracles that I knew I could never deliver on. What the hell was I thinking?

Growling at myself, I stumble through the training camp searching for my tent. And yes, I was a little more than inebriated. I'd needed it. Sure, the lessons were difficult—there were only so many times a person could be placed under the Cursio curse—but, unlike the other initiates who had joined me for a not so quick drink, that wasn't why I needed the alcohol. I needed it because I knew, without a doubt, that I would be the tool used to bring the savior of the wizarding world to his knees.

I guess good intentions really do pave the road to hell. A disconnected part of my mind noted how glad it was that no one had ever informed the Dark Lord of this not so convenient fact.

Frowning, I turned in a circle once more to observe the surrounding tents, all of which were identical. Groaning in frustration, I ran a hand through my hair while wishing the gods would send some form of assistance.

"It is good to know that you are not wasting your training, Draco" drawled a far too familiar voice from behind me. Suppressing a cringe, I slowly turned towards my father, all the while cursing the gods for sending the wrong form of assistance.

"Tell me, do you think that your little escapade is worth risking the Dark Lord's disappointment?"

"No father."

"And yet, here you are, inebriated." My father's cold gaze regarded me with disfavor, but I did not respond to his accusations. Nothing I could say would defend me.

"The least you could do is pretend to be a proper Malfoy heir instead of wasting away at the bottom of a glass." With this last derisive remark, my father cast a harsh sobriety spell before turning towards his tent. Grimacing, I followed.

Even in a residency as temporary as a tent, my father surrounded himself with priceless artwork, lush furnishings, and a library of books. As a child I had often imagined that the Emperor of Rome himself could not afford a tent like this one. Yet, as I took a seat in front of my father's desk, all I could feel was a cold detachment instead of the usual admiration.

"The instructors tell me you have been doing well."

I do not respond, instead waiting for my father to continue.

"But the Dark Lord must never find a Malfoy lacking. You will be given the rank of an inner circle Death Eater as soon as you are initiated and as such you will be expected to under go extended training each night with both with myself and other instructors."

My father pauses and for a moment I could almost believe that his eyes softened when he looked at me. Almost.

"The Dark Lord has high hopes for you. See to it that you do not disappoint him."

"I understand." I mutter softly, regret filling me for reasons I would not acknowledge.

My father stands and I quickly follow suit. We exit the tent before crossing to the nearest training field. As we draw near to our destination, I notice figure occupying the field, but before I can enquire my father speaks.

"You will be training with my assistant and I tonight." Frowning, I look curiously towards the assistant. The person was fairly short with a thin, non-descript form. Yet, my curiosity quickly turned to disgust when I noted their ragged clothing and matted hair, which fell in greasy clumps around their face. As we approached, the assistant turned to face us and I felt a sharp shock snake through my nerves.

My father merely smirked at me before commenting, "I believe you two are already acquainted."

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**Harry's POV**

It was dark. So dark. Noise. Voices. Ice cream. Fucking Ice cream. Trapped. Dark. I scrape my hands across the boards. Begging. Stop. Please. Help. It's so dark. Make it stop. Shattered glass. Blood. Is it mine? Help me. Trapped. Surrounded. Suffocating. Where am I? Stop please. I'll be good. Voices. So many voices. Talking. Screaming. Hushing. Whispering. Screeching. Hissing. Hissing? I used to be able to hiss didn't I? But that was bad. I was bad. Always bad. So bad. Breaking things. Breaking rules. Breaking me. I'm breaking. Cracking. I feel it in my limbs. Or is it just my mind? Cold ice burning. Boiling blood. Boiling me. Fear. Hate. Desperation. Love. Fear. Save me.

Save me.

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**Draco's POV**

I quickly bind Zabini before spinning to face Nott. We circle each other for a moment, accessing our strengths and weaknesses, before he predictably uses the Crusio curse. Sneering, I sidestep the spell while aiming two of my own cutting curses. Nott hisses as his wand arm begins bleeding profusely and drops behind Zabini. I smirk at him, his dark glower only improving my mood.

"Good Malfoy. Nott, Zabini, to the infirmary."

Nodding towards my instructor, I move to stand with the other students.

"Reducto."

Snarling, I fall to the side as soon as I hear Nott's voice, barely avoiding the spell. Two other students were not so lucky. Spinning quickly, I erect a shield charm, all the while waiting for Nott's next attack. It never came. Instead, Nott sneers at me before pulling himself into a standing position—his head held far too high for a conniving twit. Annoyed, I shoot off a wide beamed cutting curse to take out his legs. Furiously swearing, Nott collapses.

"Good initial attack, Nott, but you must not wait before following up. You're opponent is only surprised once. Now, get to the infirmary." Nott glares at me for a moment, hate evident in his eyes, before Zabini hobbles his way over and begins to help the idiot stand.

Glancing at the teacher, I watch him scold the two students that were taken out by the Reducto. Our teacher almost reminded me of Mad Eye Moody. I wouldn't be surprised to hear him scream "Constant Vigilance" at us.

Finally, he sends the two students to the infirmary. Really, if this was the most the Death Eaters could provide for new recruits, Potter would have no difficulty defeating the Dark Lord and his pathetic army.

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. The fact was I was part of that army now. Thinking of Potter would do me no good. But still, I couldn't forget him.

Sighing, I gave into the inevitable. One more time; I would see Potter one more time, just to make sure he was safe. After that we would be enemies once more.

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**Harry's POV**

Can't breath. Can't escape. Can't scream. Can't cry. Can't exist. Whore. Freak. Boy. Worthless. Savior. Freak. Something crawls across my hand. I eat it. So dark. Suffocating. Why? Why am I suffocating? Why am I here? Where am I? Concrete. Wood. Dust. Glass. Darkness. I hate it. I fear it. I fear. I fear. I fear me? You? Uncle? Aunt? Draco?

Lost. I'm lost. Hello, Mr. Will-O-The-Wisp, can you show me the way? Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will break my soul. Break me. Is that it? Laugh. Is that the best you can do? Fuck you! Fuck me. Aye! I'm a fishmonger! Shatter.

Hang in there Bastard—Prick?

No! NO! Don't think. Don't speak. Don't cry. Don't think. Mustn't think. Hush little baby don't you cry, my fair lady's ganna sing you a lullaby. Take a key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up. Ashes to Ashes, we all fall down.

DEAD.

Bastard?

Prick, I can handle this. Have a nice day.

So dark. I'm horse. Can't scream. Can't beg. Can't cry. Can't sing. Can't think. Can't live. Can't live? That's good right? Whore. Freak. Boy. Worthless. Savior. Freak. No, mustn't live.

Stop! Please stop, Bastard.

Prick? Dangerous. Safe. Mine. Safe. I can taste him. See him. Feel him. He holds me. Will he protect me? Preserve me?

No. Who protects a freak?

He does, maybe?

Silence. In a single orgasmic explosion of thought, there was nothing. No noise. No screaming. No whimpering. Just silence.

Just blessed silence.

I shattered that day, my Teddy Bear permanently lost. So many little pieces silently screaming together like a symphony of empty wine glasses. Or, at least that's what I tell myself. Either way, in the end, it was all gone. Ashes to ashes we all fall down, right?

They always said that when Pandora's box was opened only hope remained.

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**Author's Note:**

Again, I'm going to have to say: Wow. I can't believe this chapter is finally written. Now that I'm starting to reach the core of the plot I find myself writing quite a few of the scenes that I first imagined when I started this story. Since this is the first time I've written a story of this length, it's kinda a "weird in a good way" feeling.

I referenced quite a few things during Harry's POV and now I need to cite them, so here they are in order of appearance: the child's phrase "Sticks and Stones," "Hamlet" by Shakespeare, "Hush Little Baby" lullaby, "London Bridge" kids song, "Ring Around the Rosey" kids song, and Pandora's Box.

I also would like to apologize for how long it took to get this chapter out. I know I'm not the best of updaters, but this one was a particularly long wait because I kept revising it. As such, I made this chapter a wee bit longer than normal in apology.

Thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed the chapter!

**October ****Anonymous:** You put so many of my worries at ease. For one, I'm glad you think that Draco and Harry grew up in the previous chapter. I really needed that character growth before I hit you with this chapter. Not that you're too happy with the events of this chapter I'm sure XP. As for the deaths of Ron and Hermione, I'm glad that they took you by surprise because of what I have to build off of those deaths. As for how long this story will be, I'm about a 3rd of the way through the story. Hopefully, things will pick up speed after the next chapter.

**Thrnbrooke:** You keep commenting on Hermione so I'm really curious to see what you will think once the full circumstances of her death are disclosed. *Bites nails nervously*

**Lunatick ****Anonymous: **Your review really made me think long and hard on the Bastard & Prick names. I think that you are correct on the slight OOCness that comes with the use of these names. That being said, I'm a little too far into the story to be able to change that now, especially considering the crucial role those names are already playing. Luckily, I can use this critique to improve my writing in my other stories. Thank you so much for your input! (BTW, thanks for catching the 'tuff' mistake!)

**Rachel:** I'm glad you're enjoying this story. I think the error messages were happening on all of and not just with this story because I was also receiving a lot of error messages when I was reading "Tell me the reason why" by SensiblyTainted. Thanks!

**Lemo: **Thanks for catching that!

**HarryPotterFan05: **Yeah, I really haven't made it that easy to sympathize with Ron and Hermione…yet *Evil grin*. As for how helpful Draco will be, we'll just have to wait and see.

**EvilEmoElmoKillsSanta, Ikidori, Dreamingofsunshine, crazylove4MCR:** Aww, you're going to make me blush.


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